


Everything and More

by AcademiaCrypt



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Daddy Kink, F/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Romance, Slow Burn, Sugar Daddy Din, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 09:40:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 41,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29116137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcademiaCrypt/pseuds/AcademiaCrypt
Summary: Life in the city is tough for a girl on her own. A little help from a mysterious stranger might just change that.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Comments: 67
Kudos: 176





	1. Grocery Guy

When did something as tedious as grocery shopping become a luxury?

It was baffling. Every one else in this store probably didn’t think twice about their presence here. Just another weekday for them, another tick off the routine, right alongside getting the kids from school and running the airspeeder through the wash. 

You, on the other hand, were ecstatic. You could hardly remember the last time you’d gone to an actualgrocery store. Even the lower end ones such as this were expensive, and your budget hadn’t allowed for it in weeks. 

You weren’t necessarily bad with your money. In fact, you were extremely frugal with it. And you worked hard for what you had. Living on Coruscant was just so kriffing expensive. 

Even in the less glamorous sector where you lived, rent was astronomical. The public Skytram chipped away at your credits every time you wanted to leave your apartment. Food that was halfway recognizable cost a fortune. Sometimes you were shocked they didn’t charge you to breathe in this city. 

You looked into moving once. The cost of a chain code transfer alone was enough to make you chuck that idea out the window.

For the past several months, your budget had you scraping by. Rent paid, passage to work secured, belly just full enough, but _scraping._ So when your paycheck finally came through and you realized you had a bit extra for the first time in weeks, the first place you went was the grocery store. 

You were thrilled, but cautious. Your budget didn’t allow for much, and you had to choose carefully. 

Vegetables. They were pricey, so only a few found a place in your basket, but they were _fresh._ A package of dried noodles. Reasonable. Salt. Maker knew when the last time you actually had a full shaker of salt was. Frozen meat. Bantha, nothing fancy. And just one small package of cookies. You deserved it. 

Each item was a far, delicious cry from the dirt-cheap street food you’d been surviving on for a month. You only hoped you could make it last. You weren’t sure your digestive system could handle another mystery meat on a stick. 

Selections complete, tummy already rumbling, you made your way to the check out. The cashier at the front smiled brightly as you set your items on the gravity belt. Most stores on Coruscant splurged for human employees in favor of droids. Great for the job market. Not so great for the cost of living. 

Your handful of merchandise ambled towards her and she began snatching them up to scan one by one. 

“How are you today?” She asked as you came up to the register, watching the total tick up with every scan. 

“Tired,” you answered. 

She grimaced sympathetically. “I hear ya.” 

She scanned your salt, then the meat, setting them carefully into a bag on the other side of the counter. The final beep of your cookies rang out and the girl tapped a few buttons on the register display, bringing up your final total in sharp neon numbers. 

“157,” she announced.

 _Yeesh._ In budget, but barely. 

You pulled out your worn, rust colored credit chip. The same one you’d had since first opening your account, faded into gray at the edges. Even new credit chips were expensive on this planet. 

You swiped it. The screen flashed with a spinning wheel, processing. After a few seconds, the cashier grimaced.

“Um, it didn’t take it,” she said quietly. “Wanna try again?”

Your heart fell in panic. There was no way. No _way._ You just checked your account before coming in here. You shook your head slightly to clear it. It had to be the machine. It had to be. You nodded at her and swiped it again.

Another few seconds of spinning wheel, the heaviest and most heart wrenching of your life. Another hesitant grimaced from the well meaning cashier. 

“I’m sorry, it declined again,” she whispered. 

You could feel your neck heating with the presence of other customers behind you.

“Do you have another form of payment maybe or…?” 

You shook your head with a sigh, shoulders drooping. “No, sorry. Uh…” You glanced at the paper bag on the other side of the counter, stuffed with your precious, now unattainable groceries. “Maybe I can try taking a few things off?” 

The cashier nodded sympathetically and reached for the bag. 

Just then a deep, unfamiliar voice chimed in behind you. 

“I’ve got it.”

You turned around to see a tall, helmeted man in line. He stood relaxed, hands buried in his suit pockets, a single bottle of cold caf on the belt next to him. You recognized his helmet as Mandalorian and your heart kicked up another notch. 

“Oh no that’s ok, really. Thank you though,” you said hurriedly, turning back to the now hesitant cashier, who was glancing to the man in question. 

The Mandalorian took a sure step forward, setting his caf bottle next to the scanner and pulling a hand from his pocket. “I insist.” 

You took a step back as he advanced, if only out of intimidation. He nodded to the cashier and she scanned his bottle, tossing you an apologetic smile, just as surprised and boxed in as you were. 

“No, please, I can’t ask you to do this,” you argued, trying to sound firm. But he was already pulling a heavy silver credit chip from his wallet and dragging it through the slider. 

“You didn’t ask me to do anything,” he corrected, voice rich through the distortion of his helmet.

You stood in dumbfounded silence as the register chimed happily, transaction complete. The cashier handed him his caf, and he reached for your grocery bag, holding it out to you with a nod of his head. 

Eyes wide, you took it slowly, hands numb. 

“I…I don’t even know what to say,” you said with a shy, uncertain smile. You looked down into the sack, then back up at him. “Thank you. Very much.” 

“Don’t mention it.” 

The cashier bid you both a good day and you smiled at her. She was sweet. The Mandalorian walked with you to the door. 

“That’s uh, really embarrassing,” you laughed, and he pressed the button for you that sent the glass panes sliding open. 

“Don’t worry about it. Happens to all of us,” he assured you. 

You tossed him an incredulous look but didn’t voice your suspicion that it certainly never happened to him. 

“I can pay you-“

“No.” He cut you off quickly but there was nothing other than kindness in his voice. 

Outside the store, you stood amongst a thin crowd, shoppers and commuters bustling through the artificial streets, airspeeds slicing through the air in all directions. You paused in front of him, feeling indebted and grateful and inadequate. 

“Surely there must be something I can do,” you tried. It didn’t sit right with you, accepting such a big gesture from a total stranger and doing nothing in return. 

The Mandalorian, however, shook his head. “Not a thing.”

You looked down, cheeks reddening as you smiled. “Well…thank you. Again.”

He nodded. You each looked up at each other one last time, then went your separate ways. Him towards his speeder parked across the street, and you towards a waiting public tram. 

You had taken half a dozen steps toward the Skytram when you realized your heart was still trying to escape your chest. First humiliation, then fear, and finally being utterly flustered. You’d gone through enough turmoil in five minutes to last you the whole week. 

Not to mention everything you thought you knew about Mandalorians had just been turned on its head. You had never seen one before, but everyone in the galaxy seemed under the assumption they were cruel and icy. Knowing no better, you’d assumed the same. But this one had only been gentle, kind, and well mannered. You realized with a prick of guilt that you needed to address your uneducated prejudices. 

You stepped up to the platform and swiped your tram card, the doors of the packed cabin sliding open. A Rodian took a half step aside to make room for you, and you squeezed into the mass of bodies, turning to face the glass doors in hopes of making it just a little less claustrophobic. 

As you looked up through the window, your eyes landed on a figure across the busy street, leaning up against a black airspeeder. The Mandalorian hadn’t gone far. He was still watching you. The thin black gaze of his visor never wavered, even when you made eye contact and he had to know you saw him. 

The last thing you caught was his helmet tilting to follow you as the tram lurched forward, leaving the city in a blur. 

~

You were not passionate about formal outerwear. 

You were good at it. The fruit of your mother’s labor. _I can’t give you much darling,_ she’d always say, needle in the corner of her mouth, fabric twisting in her deft hands, _but I can teach you this. It’s gotten me through life, and I hope it can help you get wherever you want to be._

Where you _wanted_ to be wasn’t a question these days. Only where you needed to be, and at what time. 

The answer was usually Crix Suit Shop, 8 am. 

It wasn’t the worst job. You’d rather be hemming tuxedos and restocking shelves of off brand bow ties than hustling death sticks on the lower levels. Still, the pay left much to be desired. 

You would have made a bigger fuss over it if your boss wasn’t the kindest old man in the galaxy, just trying to get by himself. Crix was not a luxury store, and for its location on the mid-level, it was lucky to still be in business. You knew he paid you the maximum he could truly afford, which happened to be the minimum required by Coruscant law. 

As much as the wage pained you, his smiling face each morning _nearly_ made up for it.

“Morning dear!” Your boss, Mr. Kerg, greeted happily on yet another rushed morning. 

You huffed out a greeting as you flew through the door, two minutes late. You had decided to walk that morning, after finding out a Skytram auto renewal had been the cause of your embarrassing grocery store mishap last week. 

“Hey, sorry I’m late!” You called out, tossing your bag over its hook and doffing your sweater. 

“No worries,” he assured you with a wave of his hand. He was at his desk in the back office, the room where stacks of discarded textiles - which would _definitely_ come in handy one day - went to gather mites. You stepped around rolls and piles of fabric as you made your way over to him. 

“Did that shipment ever come in?” You asked as you reached his desk, leaning against it.

Kerg nodded, holding up a large box with a smile. “Twenty silk bow ties, crisp and ready to go.”

You took the box and opened it, revealing a multicolored set of ties set in a bed of soft black fabric. They were nice. Off brand, as with everything in the store, but still nice. 

“Awesome!” You said with a smile. “I bet these will sell well.”

He nodded his agreement. Then, face uncertain, “Do you mind to set them out for me? Lor called out today…” His voice was hesitant at the mention of your coworker, and you gave him a reassuring smile. 

Recently you had moved away from the role of restock-er and cashier, your talent in alterations making you a head tailor of sorts. Only on a team of three, but still. It was nice to be recognized for a skill you worked hard at, even if it came with no tangible perks. You’d never voice it, but you hoped that maybe one day, if business picked up, your specific skill set may just earn you a pay raise. 

With your added responsibilities, Kerg had been assigning Lor - who’s sole talents consisted of counting inventory and making a nuisance of himself - the majority of the busy work. But that didn’t mean you weren’t willing to help out on occasion.

“Sure,” you told him. “No problem.” 

You took the box and stepped out of the cluttered office into the store’s front showroom. Out here was a sharp contrast to the mess Kerg accumulated out of the public eye. The store was far from chic, the slight discoloration of its metal walls speaking to its age, but it was clean and well organized. 

Crix didn’t get much foot traffic. The majority of its revenue came from stable, long time customers. So the tall racks of suit jackets and shelves of accessories went largely untouched, leaving no glaringly ideal place for a set of twenty brand new items. You spent several long minutes examining the shelves that dotted the showroom floor, trying to decide what could be rearranged or even put away. 

You finally managed to find a spot on the round three tiered display that stood in the center, housing a few of the shop’s nicer watches and tie pins. After pushing aside a few cufflink boxes, there was a space just big enough for the bowties. You set the box down and lifted the fabric out, carefully laying it on the meticulously clean surface. 

You began arranging the ties into neat little rows, humming softly to yourself, when someone spoke from behind you.

“Hello again.”

A tie jolted from your grasp as you jumped, spinning around with a hand to your chest, eyes wide. 

The spike of fear subsided as you recognized a Beskar helmet and pair of hands shoved into black suit pockets. You smiled, flustered and surprised. 

“Hey, grocery guy!”

 _Grocery guy?_ Stupid. Stupid. 

The Mandalorian chuckled. 

“Funny seeing you again,” you remarked, hoping to keep talking and bury the memory of that idiotic opener. 

“Indeed. Sorry for startling you.” 

You had forgotten how interesting his voice was. It had caught you off guard on your first meeting and managed to do the same now. The metallic distortion of his helmet’s vocoder did little to hide its rich timbre. 

“Oh no worries, you didn’t,” you lied in jest, waving your hand.

He cocked his head. “Looked I did.”

“I always turn around like that.” 

He stared at you, dead silent. You waited a tick before breaking into a grin. “I’m kidding. You scared the hell out of me.” 

“Ah,” he mumbled, and you could hear your smile reflected in his voice. “Well, apologies.”

You waved another dismissive hand. “Don’t mention it.” Then, changing the subject, “So what brings you to Crix?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, his visor settled squarely on your eyes as he looked at you. It felt intense. Very quickly. The sensation made your skin crawl in a way that was not entirely unpleasant, so much so that you forgot to question the delay in his answer. At length, he looked around the store, as if noticing its contents for the first time.

“Looking for a suit, actually.” 

You brightened up. This, you could do. 

“You’ve certainly come to the right place.” You held your arms out in presentation, gesturing to the many racks surrounding you. “Anything in particular?”

~

Turns out, the Mandalorian was picky. 

Which surprised you, for some reason. You had next to no information on the man, each thing you learned about him was brand new, so you had no reason to be surprised. Still, when he turned down a perfectly nice jacket on the grounds of an oddly angled chest pocket, and a pair of pants for a stitch a little too far to the left, you couldn’t help but laugh. Weren’t his people supposed to be hardened warriors, not fashion critics? 

“What’s so funny?” He asked, and it was then you realized that laugh had actually slipped from your mouth. 

“Nothing,” you said innocently, wide eyed as you replaced the rejected pants on their hangar. “Just…” you shrugged, “I didn’t peg you as the picky type, that’s all.”

He hummed. “And what did you peg me as?”

You looked at him. You wished you could see if he was smiling or not, just giving you a hard time. “I don’t know, uh…” You lip curled nervously. “I guess the type who…isn’t…picky…”

You were just quite the linguist today, huh?

He chuckled, and your body nearly sagged with relief. “I know what I like.”

You nodded. “Of course. Nothing wrong with that. Sorry.”

“No need.”

You were about to apologize for apologizing and earn strike three on your idiot score for the day, when his next words saved you from it.

“Can you do customs?”

Your brows went up. “Uh, ya…ya definitely!” 

The shop hadn’t had a custom order in awhile. They meant good money, if someone was actually willing to pay.

The Mandalorian nodded. “Let’s do that then. Probably best…since I’m picky,” he added lightly 

You hesitated at his words, eyes stretched, lips open. Then he chuckled again, low and breathy, and you broke into a nervous smile. 

“Uh…” You turned, thoroughly flustered with each passing second spent in his company. “If you just wanna, come in here…” you stepped to the side, gesturing to a curtained off room between two tall shelves of folded dress shirts. “I’ll get your measurements and we can talk options.”

The Mandalorian nodded and followed your outstretched hand, stepping behind the curtain. You went to follow him just as Kerg poked his head from the office, calling your name.

“Hey, do you care to help me unload this new box of belts?” He asked. 

“Just a second Kerg,” you responded, “With a customer.”

He raised a brow and glanced around the empty showroom. You smiled eagerly and pointed to the curtain, bringing a hand to your mouth as you silently whispered- _custom_. Kerg’s brows shot up in surprise.

“Ah, well, never mind then.”

He disappeared back into the office. You shook your head with a laugh and followed the Mandalorian into your fitting room. 

You were proud of the space, even if it was small. It had become your own office of sorts, the place you measured and cut and crafted the many alterations and occasional custom orders that came your way. Your work table and rack of progress pieces sat near the back, while a mannequin adorned in one of the nicer suits your shop could afford to offer stood in the front. 

The Mandalorian was perusing the little sections of fabric samples framed along the wall. He looked up when you entered. 

“Ok!” You said brightly, snatching your measuring tape from its hook on the wall and your data pad from the table. “Do you usually get you suits custom?”

“No.”

“Have you ever been fitted before?”

“No.”

You cocked your head and approached him, placing your hands on his broad shoulders to angle him in front of you. “Alright. So I have to measure…” You mentally ran down the list and decided it was much too long to articulate. “Pretty much everything, ok?” 

He held his hands up in a helpless, “at your mercy” gesture. You pointed to his current suit jacket, a trim, all black piece who’s quality you could spot a parsec away. 

“Can you take this off for me?”

He obliged, slipping it down his arms to fully reveal the thin dress shirt he wore underneath, also black. You took the article from him and hung it carefully on a nearby rack. 

“Ok,” you said as you came up behind him, once again placing your hands on his shoulders, “Sit up nice and straight for me please.”

His shoulders rolled back, expanding slightly beneath your touch. His muscles rippled beneath the fabric of his shirt and you swallowed, trying not to notice the sensation on your fingertips. You took your hands off him and stretched the measuring tape across the length of his shoulder blades. 

“This suit fits you well,” you remarked, tapping his measurement into the data pad. “You really didn’t get it tailored?”

“Nope,” he assured you. “Off the shelf.” 

“Huh.” 

Next you aligned the tape below the back of his neck and brought it downward to get his back measurement. It had to go just past his rear, and you found yourself once again trying not to notice his body. This time it was the excellent way his pants accentuated him. You shook your head, tapped another entry on the pad, and stepped around to face him. 

“Alright, I need to get your neck,” you said uncertainly, eyeing the way his collar came up to the edge of his helmet. With the gloves he wore, you realized not a single inch of his skin was showing. Was that some sort of Mandalorian requirement?

Without a word, he reached up and undid a few buttons, tugging his collar down to reveal his thick neck. Apparently not. 

You reached up and behind to wrap it around him, bringing the ends together just below his Adams apple. Your fingers wanted to tremble but you forced them to stay firm. This was your profession for kriff sake. A man’s shoulders and ass and neck were nothing you hadn’t seen and touched before. Granted, you may not have seen a neck quite so elegantly defined, with such thick cords of muscle beneath smooth, gold skin-

It shouldn’t have taken this long to get the measurement. You blinked and focused, zoning in on the number before quickly removing the tape from his neck. His visor stayed on you as he reached up to replace the buttons. 

You measured his arms, biceps, wrists, and stomach. The measuring of his hips you found yourself enjoying a little too much as your fingers found an excuse to casually brush his well shaped behind. You felt like a perv. 

Last was his inseam. Easy. You’d measured hundreds, if not thousand of inseams. You were a professional. Easy. 

“Ok, one more,” you said coolly as you knelt before him, and _stars_ the action sent your stomach turning. He didn’t really answer, just hummed in acknowledgement and watched you sink to the floor. _Watched_ you, as in you could sense that visor on your face the entire time. 

Ok. Tape measure on the hem of his pants. Up. Up. 

You’re a professional. This is your job. Don’t look. 

Up, up, up-

Don’t look don’t look don’t _don’t look_ -

Failure. Catastrophic failure. 

_Maker._

His pants were not immodest enough to leave no guesswork. They fit well, but could never be described as tight. Still, it wasn’t all that difficult to piece together-

Get the number. Get the _kriffing number_ and stand up. 

Your fingers flew across the data pad and you leapt to your feet. 

“Ok, that should be it,” you said, clearing your throat with a casual air. “Do you uh…know what style of fit you’d like?”

His helmet was tilted as he looked at you. “Whatever you think.”

You glanced up at him, surprise across your features. “You don’t have a preference?”

He shrugged. 

You chewed your lip thoughtfully and took a step back, examining him. He was tall. Broad, which you already knew from the numbers in your data pad, but it was different to truly see him all together. With his collar buttoned he was once again covered from head to toe, a solid wall of black. You considered his sturdy frame, long legs, and narrow waist. 

“I think a slim fit would look good on you,” you finally said. 

He nodded. “Sounds good.”

You entered it on your pad. “Colors?”

Another shrug. “You pick.”

You laughed, brow creased in confusion. “I thought you were picky?”

“I can be,” he said, turning to retrieve his coat from the rack and donning it, “but I trust your judgement.”

“That’s a lot of trust to put in someone you just met.”

He turned back around and stepped toward you. Stopped just shy of personal space. Tugged the sleeves of his jacket. “Perhaps. I still trust you.” 

You swallowed hard. This faceless man was turning your cheeks pink and it made you angry at yourself. 

“O-ok then,” you said quietly, looking back down to your pad and making a few adjustments. “It’ll take about two weeks. I can call you when it’s done.” 

“Thank you,” he said with a nod. 

Then he was taking another half step toward you, helmet cocked. His voice went down a notch, gentler, when he asked, “What’s your name?”

Oh. Had you really not reached that basis yet? For some reason you felt like you were quickly becoming well acquainted this stranger. You told him your name with a smile. 

He hummed and repeated it, the sound warm off his invisible lips. 

“And yours?” You asked. 

He hesitated, shoulders tensing, which surprised you. He would let you call all the shots on an expensive piece of clothing but seemed unsure about providing the most basic piece of information about himself?

You were about to take it back, apologize for apparently making a severe breach of privacy, but he answered you.

“Din.” 

You smiled fondly. It fit him. 

“Well Din, thank you. I’ll be in touch with you soon.”

He nodded again and reached into his pocket, producing the thick black wallet you recognized from the great grocery debacle of last week. From it he pulled two hundred credit bills and held them out to you.

“Oh, you don’t have to pay yet,” you assured him quickly, waving your hand. “You don’t have to pay until you get the suit.”

“I know.” He continued to hold the bills out. “This is for you.”

Your face dropped and you looked down at the money, then back to him. “W…what?”

He inclined his head and held the money closer to you. “For your help today. I appreciate it.”

Your eyes slowly narrowed, suspicion and a touch of offense creeping in. “Look uh, if this is about what happened before…I appreciate your concern, but I’m not a charity case. It was just a bad week-“

“No,” he interrupted, taking yet another step into your space. “This has nothing to do with that. Where I come from, if someone does something for you, you owe them it’s worth.” He moved his wrist, once again encouraging you to accept his offering. “And it’s considered very offensive for payment to be rejected,” he added.

Your eyes were still narrow, but now a good humored smile accompanied it. You hesitantly took the money from his grasp. “Well, I think you’re overpaying but…thank you.” 

He hummed, satisfied, and slipped his wallet back into his pocket. 

The Mandalorian bid you goodbye, repeating your name alongside it, and then he was gone. 

Kerg looked up happily when you rejoined him in the office. “Well well, did our mystery customer order?” He asked hopefully. “I caught a peek of him as he was leaving. Looks like he could afford just about anything, what with that pricey bucket of his.”

“He did,” you confirmed, holding up the data pad. You briefly considered correcting his statement, as you were pretty sure Mandalorians didn’t so much buy their helmets as they did earn them. You decided against it, knowing Kerg had little attention capacity for topics beyond textiles and money.

“He gave me a lot of creative freedom too,” you added.

“That’s nice!”

“Sort of…” you said with a shrug. “Kind of a little nerve racking to be honest. He wouldn’t even pick a color. What if he hates what I do?”

Kerg laughed. “He didn’t look like a flashy fellow. Just picking something on the black to gray spectrum and I’m sure you’ll be fine.” 

You echoed his laugh, then remembered the two bills sitting heavy in your pocket. Guilt pricked in your conscience as you looked at your boss. You didn’t understand why. He gave the money to _you_. _You_ were the one who had done the work. 

And yet, Kerg’s kind face only reminded you of the countless favors he extended. How he worked so hard to keep jobs for you and Lor. 

Din had said it would be offensive to reject his payment. You couldn’t imagine giving it away was any better. But perhaps a compromise would be acceptable. Besides, it wasn’t like he’d ever know…

You pulled the money from your pocket, showing it to Kerg. “He uh…he gave me this. As like a tip, I guess-“ Kerg’s eyes widened at the credits in your hand. “I was thinking I could at least split it with the store…” You held one of the bills out to him. 

Kerg immediately raised his palm and shook his head. “No no dear, absolutely not. You did the work. He gave it to you. You keep it.”

“Oh come on,” you insisted. “It’s only fair.”

“No it’s not,” he said firmly, his stern expression leaving zero room for argument. “You’re going to keep that.” 

Your shoulders drooped, another good humored smile gracing your lips as you slipped it back into your pocket. “You’re too difficult, old man,” you teased, and Kerg tossed a piece of scrap fabric at you with a laugh. 

~

That night, you found yourself thinking constantly about Din. 

Warm and cozy in your slightly too small bed, thoughts of faceless Beskar and impressive dimensions plagued your mind. You really had looked a little too long when measuring his inseam, and you prayed he didn’t notice. 

You wondered what he looked like under there. Where he got money to toss away at low end tailors. Why he didn’t seem to be like other Mandalorians. 

Or maybe he was, for all you _really_ knew about them. 

You tried to force your thoughts elsewhere, sensing that yours were headed down a dangerous path. You may have met him under different, slightly embarrassing circumstances, but now he was a customer. He just wanted to buy a suit, and you had a job to do. 

It wouldn’t be too bad. You’d see him once more in two weeks when he came to pick up his suit, then never again. Hopefully whatever odd, stirring thoughts were currently clinging to your brain will have dissipated by then.

You repeated the comfort to yourself over and over. Once more in two weeks, never again. Once more in two weeks….never again.

~

You saw him exactly one week later. 

Lor poked his head into your fitting room, where you were cutting away at a roll of black silk with your - well, the shop’s - new laser cutter. The nicest piece of equipment Kerg had been able to afford in a long time, and it made your job a million times easier. You looked up when Lor said your name. 

“A customer needs your help,” he said.

You frowned at him and gestured to your work. “Uh, can’t you help them? I’m a little busy.”

Lor shook his head. “He asked for you.”

You turned, face scrunched in confusion. “What? Asked for me?”

He nodded. “Yup. Better hurry, he seems grumpy.” 

You sighed and turned the cutter off, setting it on your work table. Lor disappeared behind the curtain and you followed him into the showroom. 

There, in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets, staring at nothing in particular, stood the Mandalorian. Your brows went up and you put on a smile as you approached him.

“Hello again,” you said lightly, echoing his greeting from the last time you met. Then, biting your lip hesitantly, “I’m afraid it’s not quite ready yet…” 

You had told him two weeks, right? Yes, you were sure of it. Did that big metal hat impair his hearing?

“I know,” he said calmly. Almost gently, as though trying to reassure you he wasn’t being impatient. “Just looking for a belt.” 

You cocked your head. “A belt?”

“Mhm. Need one that will match the new suit. Since I’m not sure what it’ll look like-“ he gestured to you. 

“Ahh,” you said slyly, smile on your lips. “Trying to sneak a spoiler, huh?”

He let out a single breath, the closest thing to a laugh he seemed capable of producing. “Perhaps.”

You chuckled. “Well, far be it from me to deny you.”

You turned and gestured for him to follow. On your way to the belt rack, you noticed Kerg and Lor standing in the door to the office, eyeing you and whispering to each other. You threw them a confused and suspicious glare, then turned your attention back to your customer. 

“Soooo, in your size I have…” you began flipping through the belts, metal sliders clinking together as you pushed them aside. “This one,” you plucked one from the rack, “And this one,” you said, picking another. You briefly considered grabbing one of the obnoxious multicolored options just to mess with him, but settled for laughing quietly to yourself at the hypothetical joke. 

You turned and held them both up for him to see. One was all black with a hollowed silver square for the buckle. The other was a dull silver, its buckle a bit larger but more delicately framed.

Din cocked his head at them. “Which one do you think?”

You smiled in surprise. The value of your opinion had apparently gone up recently. 

“Both will match _perfectly_ ,” you said with a wink. 

There was no way to know, but you were pretty sure that made him smile. 

“You choose,” he insisted. 

With a roll of your eyes you turned the belts to examine them yourself. Lips pursed, you scanned the lengths of them, then looked at his waistline. 

“Will you try them on?” You asked. 

He nodded and held out a gloved hand. You gave him the silver one first. He slipped it through the loops of his pants, his jacket lifting as he reached around to slide it through the back. Your gaze drifted over his newly exposed torso and it was pathetic how little you tried to stop it. 

When he was finished, you eyed it critically, trying to imagine the colors of your suit against it, mostly noting the way it fit him. Eyes on the belt. Eyes on the belt. Eyes on the _belt._

“Ok,” you said after a minute, “Now this one.” 

He slid out of the silver one and put on the black, arms reaching and torso stretching in that same tantalizing motion. Once it was on, you scanned it with narrowed eyes. You stepped closer to him and held up the silver one to compare, bringing it just above his waistline, resisting the urge to tug him closer by his belt loops-

“That’s the one,” you said quickly, nodding to the black. 

“Alright then,” he said easily, slipping his thumbs into the new accessory. “Might as well keep it on then.” 

You giggled and shrugged in agreement. “Sure. Come over here and I’ll ring you up,” you waved him forward as you headed to the register at the front of the store. 

You slipped behind the counter and he stood in front of you, gloved hands resting casually a top the smooth surface. The store’s register was outdated and slow. It took forever to accept your input of the belt’s code, and even longer to generate a total. As it worked, you found yourself unable to keep your eyes downward, constantly glancing up at your armored patron. His own gaze appeared to be set on you, making your face heat. 

Finally, the register decided to do its job and displayed his total. 

“120,” you told him. 

He paid with his credit chip and the machine also took its sweet time to accept the transaction. When it finally did, you looked up with a smile, intending to bid him goodbye and remind him it’d be another week on his suit. 

Instead you rolled your eyes when you found him holding another 200 credits out to you. 

“You have to quit doing that,” you argued, making no move for the money. 

“No I don’t,” he said simply. “And I thought we went over this?” 

He paused. Leaned forward. Then, voice strikingly low, “You’re not trying to offend me, are you sweetheart?”

You held onto your easy smile even though your heart lurched. He seemed very much aware of the power his voice held.

With a dramatic sigh and another eye roll for good measure, you took the money. “Of course not sir.” 

He hummed, pleased. His visor stayed on you a moment longer. Just long enough for your skin to heat again, not quite long enough for you to acknowledge it. 

“Have a good day, sweetheart,” he said in that smooth honey voice. Then he was out the door, gone in a slow blur of black and silver. 

By the time the door slammed shut you still hadn’t moved. Your eyes stayed on the last place you had seen him, your blood pumping hot in your veins. Sweetheart. _Sweetheart._ Twice. 

Why weren’t you angry? You were always angry when men took it upon themselves to call you by little pet names. You should be _angry_. 

But you were just very, very hot. 

“What the kriff, did you see that?” Lor’s voice cut through your dumbfounded stupor. “He gave her 200 credits!” 

You looked up to where the boys were still watching you from the office door. Kerg merely shrugged in response to Lor’s outburst. 

“He has every right too. She did help him.”

“That was more than the belt cost!” He crossed his arms and tilted his hips, frowning at you. “Ya’ know, it’s only fair for you to split it with me. I _did_ try to help him first.”

You laughed sharply, raising your credits to wave at him. “Not a chance!”

He scrunched his nose at you. You turned to Kerg. 

“ _But,_ I will split it with the store, if you’re so inclined boss.”

Kerg once again raised a palm, shaking his head. “Nope. That’s yours hun.”

You shrugged and slipped it into your pocket, knowing it was pointless to argue.

Lor, apparently, was not quite finished. “I’d probably get more tips too if I flirted with customers like that.”

You rounded on him, mouth dropped, immediately wanting to sink your fist into the smug grin on his face. “I was _not_ flirting with him!”

“Were too!” He insisted. “Looking at him all smiley and doe eyed.”

You turned to Kerg. “Kerg, was I flirting with that guy?”

The boss took a step back, eyes big as he glanced between his bickering employees. “Uh…I’m staying out of this one…”

“ _Kerg!”_

“Com’s beeping,” he said quickly, and disappeared into the office. 

You glared at his retreating back before turning to Lor. The boy grinned at you and it made your stomach sick. 

“Oh just shut _up,”_ you snapped. He barked out a laugh and you stomped away, trying your best to ignore him. 

Even as the denials had tumbled from your lips, your aching cheeks spoke the unfortunate truth of Lor’s accusation. You tried to lie to yourself as much as you’d lied to him, but your wandering eyes, flitting to the window in hopes of one last glimpse of Beskar, wouldn’t allow it.

~

Making decisions on the suit wasn’t as difficult as you thought it’d be. Kerg was right, anything from black to gray seemed to fit him perfectly. Still, you didn’t want it to be boring. Everything you’d seen him in so far was solid black. Black suit, dress shirt, gloves, even his shoes. He might hate it, but you decided he could use just a tiny splash of color. 

You hung the suit up on your display rack the day he was supposed to pick it up, and right on cue, a million new potential flaws presented themselves. You looked nervously to Kerg and Lor beside you.

“What do you guys think? Think he’ll like it?”

Lor opened his mouth to suck in a huge breath and you instantly regretted involving him in the conversation. 

“It’s _excellent,”_ Kerg interjected, throwing Lor a glare. The boy shut his mouth and grumbled. Sometimes he was more like an annoying little brother than a coworker. 

You smiled appreciatively at Kerg and reexamined your work for a time you’d lost count of. It looked good, there was no question about that. You were too good at what you did for the quality to be anything less than exceptional. Your only worry was if _he_ would like it. 

The pants were solid black, easy enough. The jacket was mostly black aside from a strip of silver adorning the lip of its chest pocket. You’d decided to include a waistcoat, despite not having seen him wear one. It too was black up until the neckline, where you added another splash of silver in a sort of criss crossed cravat that would sit high on his chest. 

He said he trusted your judgement, right? It wasn’t too crazy. A touch more formal. A speck of color that happened to match his only constant accessory. 

Lor rolled his eyes at Kerg’s praise and turned for the curtain with a dramatic flourish. “It _okay_ I guess, but I’ll be surprised if he actually-“ he stopped short as he pushed it open. “Ah, speak of the Rancor.”

Your head snapped up, eyes wide. “He’s here?”

“Yup!” And he disappeared behind the curtain. 

You turned to Kerg with a nervous grin, shifting back and forth on your feet. The older man gave you a smile and a comforting pat on the shoulder before following Lor out of the fitting room. You sucked in a breath, steadied your heart, and pulled back the curtain. 

He was standing directly across from you. Hands in his pockets as usual, posture relaxed. Your calming work took flight and you hit him with the biggest, most nerve-filled grin of your life. 

“Hello,” you greeted.

“Hello.”

You stepped back, pulling the curtain a little wider in invitation. “Right this way.”

He accepted, stepping forward, and your heart thundered. 

“I hope you like it,” you said meekly as you followed him, and instantly felt like a child. “I mean, it’s alright if you don’t, and I can still change anything you want…”

He walked up to the display in the center of the room and you stepped with him to stand beside the results of your hard work. You clasped your hands together and stood light on your toes, looking at him, then turning to the suit, biting your lip hesitantly. 

At first, he didn’t say anything. Din stood in front of it like a statue, helmet tilting slowly down and back up. You held onto a heavy breath, blood pounding faster with every second he let drip by.

The silence wasn’t actually that long. But it was too long for your nerves to handle, so you were the first to break it. “If you don’t…uh, I mean if you-“

“It’s perfect.” 

Your face dropped in surprise. “What?”

“It’s perfect,” he repeated, taking a step forward the feel the hem of the jacket between his fingers. “I love it.” 

The words were so thoroughly unexpected, your brain took a moment to accept them. They bounced emptily around your skull as you stared, eyes blank. It wasn’t until he turned to look at you that they finally managed to cling onto your comprehension. 

“Really?” Your voice spiked on the last syllable and your cheeks flushed, embarrassed. You cleared your throat and tried again. “I mean, g-good, I’m glad.” 

Your nervous smile returned and you hated it but couldn’t help it. He liked the suit. Loved it, even.

“Would you like to try it on?”

He shook his head, much to your disappointment. You would have liked to see him in your handiwork before he most likely disappeared forever. Which was fine, of course. Most customers did that.

He was just…quite nice to look at. 

“As I said, I trust your judgement,” he said, warmth in his voice. And your grin fluttered from nervous to genuine. 

You bagged up his suit for him, careful to lay it flat and pull the zipper away from the delicate fabric as you pulled it closed. He followed you to the register, where you once again found your eyes flitting up every so often as you rang up his total. 

“2,345,” you announced. The price of your own wares made you cringe. It was nearly as much as your rent. 

He slipped that familiar silver credit chip through the scanner without a moment’s thought. The store’s ancient register worked hard and slow at processing the transaction, green buffer spinning and processors whirring. It pinged, and you looked up at him with a professional smile. 

“It was a pleasure working with you.” You held out your hand. “We hope to see you again soon.”

He accepted your outstretched hand with a hum. “We?”

The single word held an unusual lilt in its tone, something inquisitive and suggestive. Your stomach flipped. You cleared your throat.

“Yes we… _I,_ hope to…see you again.” He was still holding onto your hand, not shaking it. 

“Here,” you added needlessly, nodding your head to the store as though it needed clarification. 

“Hmm…” His voice was deep and rumbling as he finally pulled his hand from yours, leaving your skin cold. 

Cold except for the very center of your palm, where you noticed a foreign object left behind. At first you thought it was more credits, and you decided you weren’t going to put up much of a fight this time. He could obviously afford it, and if he enjoyed tossing his money around, more power to him. You could certainly use it. 

But as you turned the mystery item around, you realized it wasn’t credits. It was a small white card, with a number etched across the front in black. A com number. 

You looked up with furrowed brows. “Oh, we have your number on file,” you told him. You weren’t sure why he felt the need to provide it now, at the end of your transaction. 

He shook his head softly. “No, your store has my public number,” he corrected. Then, nodding to the card in your hand, “That is my private number. For you.” 

Your heart immediately twisted itself into a knot. Your brain performed a thorough systematic shutdown, rendering tongue and face and hands useless, leaving barely enough power to keep your legs upright beneath you. 

Private number. Private number. For you. 

Was he…he was…

You gripped the card on either side with both hands, looking down at it, then back at him. Your brain tried untying your heart enough to allow for speech, but failed. Tried for a smile. Failed.

Rather than wait for an answer, the Mandalorian simply tilted his chin up at you. “Have a good day, sweetheart.” 

And with that he was gone, new suit slung over his shoulder, leaving you floundering and helpless in his wake. 


	2. A Bad Idea

You weren’t going to call him.

No way. It was a terrible idea. You had no idea who this man was, not really. He could be a psychopath for all you knew, luring you into some sort of trap. He could be a slave trader. Maybe that’s where he got all his money from. He could be a Hutt. A Hutt in disguise, just waiting until you were alone to slip out of his sexy Mando suit and eat you alive. No. No, you couldn’t call him. 

You were going to call him. 

Mandalorians weren’t slave traders, right? They were warriors. Honorable ones. Plus, you always had a good sense for weirdos and people you couldn’t trust. It had kept you safe countless times over the years. He hadn’t given you weirdo vibes once. Just mellow, nice, and very sexy. A Hutt couldn’t fit in a suit that size. 

Who were you kidding? You weren’t infallible. Leave it to you to trust your gut and wind up in a slave ring on some forgotten desert planet. Or even just straight up dead in a trash compactor. You couldn’t call him. No way. 

Then again…

A sharp elbow to the ribs snatched you from the endless yoyo of your thoughts. You grimaced and shifted amongst the bodies pressed against you, hearing a mumbled apology from the elbow’s owner. You were back on the crowded Skytram, thanks to the multiple generous donations from hot suit guy.

Din. 

His number felt like a block of concrete in your pocket. Your fingers were closed around it constantly, lest tragedy strike and it slip out, lost forever on the grimy streets of Coruscant, trampled into illegibility by billions of soles. 

Then again, maybe that’d be a good thing. Because you obviously couldn’t call him. It was a terrible idea. No way. 

Your fingers curled tighter. 

Back at your apartment, you barely toed your shoes off before flopping onto the couch, tugging the card from your pocket to stare at it. It didn’t even have his name. Literally just eight black digits on a plain white card. How fitting for his level of anonymity. 

With a sigh, you leaned back and let the card drop to your chest, still holding it fast in two hands. You stared at the ceiling and thought. 

Thought about that sinfully delicious voice. About hands you hadn’t seen but knew would be broad and strong and the same golden color as his neck. About _sweetheart_ and well fitting pants and polite manners. 

Thought about just how _little_ you had to think about beyond those things. A first name. A suit size. A drink preference? Cold caf. 

You didn’t know him. It wasn’t a good idea. 

You sat up on the couch, pulling your com from your pocket and setting it on the table in front of you, right next to the artificial plant who’d diligently gathered this week’s dust. 

Your apartment was full of such things - remnants of efforts to brighten and cute up your tiny home. A plant on the table. A holo picture on the window sill. Tiny colored lights in the crevices between countertops and ceiling corners. More plants, either fake or dead, dotting flat surfaces and hanging near the window in low slung nets. 

The effort was diligent, and technically ongoing. It wasn’t uncommon for you to bring home another colorful trinket or plant when your funds allowed it. But around these beautifications, evidence of your hectic life was creeping in. Case in point, the dust on the fake plant. The dead batteries in the color lights. The brittle leaves hanging in a pot from the ceiling that would likely never perk again, no matter how much you watered it. 

The two year old com on your living room table. Ancient by Coruscant standards. In a case that was nice when you first bought it, your favorite color, but was now worn and cracked, mostly because they didn’t make cases for that model anymore. 

You slapped the card down next it. Stared at both items until you thought you could burn a hole through them. 

What’s the worst that could happen? He had made the effort. Gone out on a limb, made the first move. The least you could do was respond. Be polite. It was just a call. Just a call…

Jerking quicker than you intended, you grabbed your com and brought up the dial pad, eyes flitting back and forth from it to the card as you punched his number in. 

040…it was only a call. 

219…just his voice and yours, with who knows how much space between you. You were safe. There was no pressure. You knew how to talk. 

7…5…

You slammed the com back down on the table. The callbutton glared at you, huge and menacing. 

You couldn’t call him. No way. It was a terrible idea. 

Your hands visibly shook with every ounce of tension wrung taught through your body. Your heart was vibrating, brow sweating, and you hadn’t even hit the button yet. But you wanted to. You wanted to very, very badly. 

You couldn’t. Your body froze up, every limb and digit locked tight, immovable with fear. 

Then, in an unexplainable rush of courage, the ice shattered just as quick. Your limbs moved of their own accord, without your permission, and you didn’t actually feel it when your fingers leapt forward and pressed call. But you certainly heard it. The screen lit up with its outgoing call screen, bright and obnoxious and _terrifying_. Exactly one ring managed to bounce through the air. 

You shouted in panic and hung up. 

Defeated and exhausted, you threw yourself back on the couch, heart heavy with stress and desire. Your now silent com stared accusingly at you from the table. 

What was _wrong_ with you?

Growling, you sprung back up and grabbed the damn com with its stupid, condescending little buttons. Instead of pressing a single one, you screamed and hurled it across the room, far out of your sight, where it belonged. 

~

Two and a half inches. Stretch, snip, and put the piece in the pile. Pull more fake silk from the roll. Again. 

“Hey, hun?”

Two and a half inches. Stretch, snip - have to turn the laser on first, duh - snip, another piece in the pile. How many more?

“Hun?”

Two and a half inches. Din’s hands, leather brushing your fingers. Stretch, snip, another piece in the pile. More fake silk.

“Huuuun?”

Two and a half inches. Stretch, snip - broad shoulders, kriffing _broad,_ the smoothest voice you’d ever heard - another piece-

“Hun!?”

Kerg’s sharp voice cut into your thoughts like a whip, snapping your head up and sending the cutter banging onto the work table. You turned to him, genuine shock across your face at the intrusion.

“What, Kerg?” You huffed.

He frowned at you from the door of the fitting room. You pushed aside the now too big pile of ‘silk’ strips to make room for the next roll of fabric needing divvying up. 

“I’ve been calling you for the past five minutes,” Kerg complained. 

Your face softened at that, hands pausing in your work as you turned to actually give him your attention. “Oh…I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.” 

You couldn’t quite meet his eye, gaze dragged down by the invisible weight of your thoughts. Kerg noticed the look on your face, the cloud in your eyes. His expression lost its brief irritation, replaced by his brow lowering in concern. 

“You ok hun? You’re not acting like yourself today.”

You looked up then, immediately trying to banish the fog in your brain and plaster on a smile. The result was shabby at best. 

“Oh ya I’m fine,” you assured him. “Just tired.” 

An age old lie Kerg could see right through. The old man gave you an incredulous look and shook his head, stepping into the fitting room to join you at the table. 

“Now, don’t give me that,” he said gently. “Is it Lor? Is he giving you a hard time again?”

Your lip curled in a half hearted smile. “No, it’s not him. It’s nothing, really.”

He gave you a sad, sympathetic look. You wanted to open up to him, really. Or maybe you just wanted _someone_ you could talk to about the weighty decision chipping at your heart. But it couldn’t be Kerg. What the hell would you even say to your boss, who happened to be a very sweet but naive old guy? _Oh ya Kerg, I’m just feeling down cause that sexy Mandalorian who’s been in here gave me his number, and I’m dying to call him cause, well, he’s hot, and very polite, but I’m terrified and nervous because he’s also intimidating and I don’t actually know him and what if he’s crazy-_

“I know what you need,” Kerg said happily, interrupting your derailed thought train. “Sip a’ pop.”

You scoffed with a smile, knowing exactly what those words meant. “Kerg! It’s 10am!”

“So?” He tugged on your elbow, urging you away from the work table. “A little pop never hurt anyone.”

“I’m completely certain that’s incorrect,” you said, even though you followed him out of the fitting room and into his office. 

Kerg closed the door and sat at his desk. He grinned and wiggled his brows at you as he opened a bottom drawer, sifted around his collection of broken accessories and dead data pads he refused to throw away, and pulled out a fat round bottle of something blue. You took a seat on the edge of his desk and watched him dig out two glasses. 

“Heeere we are,” he drawled happily as he filled the glasses halfway. You had no idea what Kerg’s “pop” actually was, but it was colorful and strong. “Troubles are nothing a sip a’ pop can’t fix.”

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you accepted your glass from him. “I wish that were true.” 

“Well, take a sip and you’ll see hun,” he encouraged as he tipped his glass back, downing it. 

You looked down at your own, swirling it gently and watching the shimmery blue twist into its own little galaxy. Probably a galaxy where no one had to stress about attractive, scary men. You frowned and swallowed it whole, like a great galaxy munching beast. It tasted sharp and sweet, stung your nostrils and did a whole lot of nothing to ease your troubles. 

“Better?” Kerg pressed expectantly. 

“Better.” 

~

It took a while, but by the end of the day that stopped being a lie. 

You figured it out. The answer had been there all along, clinging just on the edges of your distracted mind, and you finally found it. Maybe Kerg was onto something. Maybe pop really could solve all your problems. 

You stomped through your apartment door that night with new determination. Fear gone, heart light, shoes off, bag to the floor, com in hand. The realization came to you after one swig of pop and seven more hours of work: every bit of your fear came from your own stupidity. 

You had pre-committed yourself to something that didn’t even exist yet, thinking that if you called him, it meant you had to see him again. Go out with him. Submit yourself to whatever suggestion or invitation he extended over the com, as if his voice alone could control you through machinery. 

It had seriously never occurred to you that you could say _no._ Whether or not you _wanted_ to was still unclear. But the realization that you had the option made the entire process immensely easier. 

You plopped down on the couch for a second time. Whipped out your com. Jammed in the number your brain had memorized from staring at it for hours the night before. Finger closed in on call _-_

Frozen.

No, _no,_ damn it! Get it together. You can say no, remember? He has no control over you. You never asked for a single one of the things he’s given you. You owe him nothing. 

A single breath, deep and slow, calming your heart. You wanted to hear that voice again. Your fingers flexed, working the ice from their tendons-

You pressed call. 

A single ring- 

And panic.

Your mind back pedaled at alarming speed. Bad idea bad idea _bad idea._ Your fingers flew for the end call button _._ No, aborting, we’ll try again tomo-

_“Hello sweetheart.”_

Your finger was forced to a halt barely a hair breadth from the button. It took your adrenaline-doped brain about ten seconds to absorb that yes, your com had just spoke. Yes, it was him. And yes, he had picked up on the first ring. 

Your lips sealed shut. Could you still hang up? It would be _really_ rude-

Before you could make the decision, he spoke again, _“You’re not backing out on me again, are you?”_ The words were light, teasing. 

Damn it, he had seen your attempted call last night. You swallowed hard and said the first thing that came to mind, “Do you always answer the com like that?” 

He gave you that now familiar, breathy laugh. _“No. I knew it was you.”_

“How’d you know?”

_“No one has this number unless I give it to them. I always know who’s calling it.”_

“Hmm,” you hummed. “Good thing. Would have been really weird if it was someone else.”

Why couldn’t your nervous tick be cute giggles or something instead of lame jokes?

But Din just laughed, a little more full this time, and your heart squeezed. You seemed to be good at making him laugh. Even if you felt stupid. 

_“I’m glad you called,”_ he said, and before you could launch into your pending awkward apology about taking two days to do it, he continued, _“How are you?”_

Oh. Ok. Easy enough. “I’m alright. You?”

 _“Just fine.”_ His voice was warm. How did it sound so warm through the static of a com and a helmet? 

Unless he wasn’t wearing his helmet. The idea sent heat through your every nerve. The thought that he was out there somewhere, probably just a few miles away, laid up in bed or spread out on a couch, in an apartment much nicer than any you had ever set foot in, head bare and body relaxed. What color was his hair? His eyes?

 _“Did you work today?”_

His question drug you from your musings. “I did,” you answered. 

_“Mm. Tired?”_

You found yourself shrugging even though he couldn’t see you. “A little.” 

_“You sound tired.”_

You gave him a huff of mock offense. “Oh, thanks.”

He chuckled again, soft and rolling. _“Not a bad thing. Just means you’re a hard worker.”_

You rolled your eyes and lightened your tone, knowing he couldn’t see the playful smile on your face. “I’m sure Lor would disagree with you, but thanks.”

_“Lor?”_

“My coworker. You met him. Short guy, reddish hair?”

_“Oh. Right.”_

He sounded entirely disinterested in the concept of your coworker and you laughed, deciding to change the subject. “How about you, did Mr. Hot Shot have to work today?”

The ease with which you slipped into casual conversation surprised you. Your nerves had all but disappeared on his second question. You felt the same way you had in the shop all those times you spoke to him; comfortable and easy, like you were talking to an old friend.

After a few minutes of chatting - during which you were only able to establish that yes he did work today, before he turned the conversation back to you - it occurred to you he hadn’t exactly explained why he gave you his number. Why he was glad you called. 

Then again, did he really need to? Maybe you were too used to your own awkward tendency to over analyze and explain things. You were both adults. Adults who had sorta kinda flirted every time you met. He liked you. You liked him. This was normal.

Still, you couldn’t help but wonder where this call would end up. Would he actually ask you out, or just want to call you again? What would you say? You decided to just spit out whatever your instincts told you when it actually happened. That was reliable, right? 

_“Sounds like you really like plants,”_ Din observed when you finished telling him how many you had in your apartment, as the subject had somehow ended up there. 

You laughed. “Ya, not exactly. Most of them are fake. I like looking at them, not so much taking care of them.” 

_“Hm.”_ He paused. You could hear him breathing, soft and smooth. _“What else do you like to do?”_

Oof, what a question. You weren’t even sure anymore.

“Uhhh…” You hesitated. Tried to think of something. Anything. Hell, even a lie. Surely you had one hobby outside of work, right? Or could at least think of a hobby?

Nothing.

“I’m not really sure,” you admitted after a few long seconds. 

_“Surely making suits isn’t what you do for fun?”_ He teased. 

“No,” you sighed. “I just…”

You stopped and bit your lip, unsure what to say. You looked out your window, to your glorious view of the building next to you and the grimy alley below it. This was something you’d been aware of in the back of your mind for a very long time, but had never had to face until now. Truth was, you could barely remember the last time you’d had actual fun. The mix of your hefty work schedule and your own lack of balance had strung your free time to a minimum. 

“I guess I just don’t have time for that sort of thing any more,” you said after a while. You hated to sound so lame and depressing, but it was the truth. 

_“Ah…”_

Din seemed to consider this, mulling your words over as you looked at the dying plant hanging near your window, noting another browning leaf on its stem. 

_“If you did have time,”_ Din said quietly, _“What would you do?”_

You gave his question a moment of thought, but then the imbalance of this conversation suddenly dawned on you. 

“Hey, what’s up with the one way interrogation?” You said lightly. “I think I’ve earned my turn for at least one question, don’t you?”

 _“Ok,”_ he agreed. _“Shoot.”_

Lacking the capacity for anything groundbreaking, you simply echoed what he already asked. “Well what do _you_ do for fun? Since it’s so important.” 

_“Drive,”_ he answered immediately. _“Sometimes fly. Drink.”_

You laughed, sharp and teasing. “Wow. You’re such a guy.”

He gave you a cross between a laugh and a scoff. _“What’s that mean?”_

You put on a comically deep voice, mocking him as you mimicked his answer, “Ya, all I do is drive. Drive my speeder. Fly my ship. Drink. Man stuff. Har har har.” 

You giggled at yourself and Din huffed, but you could tell he was laughing too. _“Hey now, at least I have fun.”_

“Oh come on,” you argued, “That’s no fair, you can do whatever you want. It’s not my fault I don’t have time.” 

_“Well then, back to my question,”_ he said, successfully reclaiming the conversation. You cursed yourself for allowing him the chance. _“If you had time, what would you do?”_

You thought about it again, for real this time. Technically, you supposed you sometimes went on walks for fun. Watched whatever cut rate movies came through on the holo channel. Tried in vain to keep your few real plants alive. But you knew that wasn’t what he was talking about. He meant real hobbies, things you truly enjoyed, not just frivolous time eaters between work shifts. 

What _would_ you do? 

“I guess…I’ve always thought it would be fun to learn how to ride a speeder bike.” 

_“Really?”_ His tone lightened with intrigue. 

“Ya. They’re fast.” 

_“They certainly are,”_ He agreed with that low, breathy chuckle. 

A beat of silence, and you tried thinking of another question to ask. There was a lot you wanted to know about him. So much of it was too rude to bring up just yet. Like how he had so much money. What he looked like under his helmet. What the rules about taking it off were. You tried to think of something normal to ask. 

He beat you to it.

_“What’s keeping you so busy, sweetheart?”_

You laughed again, but there was no humor in it. “I don’t know, everything. Work. Life.”

_“You work a lot?”_

“Ooohh ya,” you droned. “Kerg has to keep the shop open seven days a week to make ends meet. He tries to give us each two days off a week but…I usually wind up working six.” 

_“Pretty sure that’s illegal.”_

“Ya. But he doesn’t do it on purpose. I probably do it to myself more than anything. He never asks, I just see how busy everything is and wind up volunteering.”

 _“You should be easier on yourself.”_ His voice is silk. Deep and smooth and it made your spine tingle. 

Your reply is barely a whisper, the reality of your own words heavy in your heart, “I don’t really know how to do that.”

_“Hm.”_

You heard fingertips thrumming on something, slow and methodical. His breath was faint but discernible through the com, causing you to imagine the nose that created it. Big, you think. But just right for his face, rugged and broad features-

_“I’d like to help you, sweetheart.”_

His words took you by surprise, your head tilting curiously at the sudden turn. “Help me?”

_“Mhm.”_

“Help me…with what?”

You heard the deep creak of leather, like a body shifting on furniture, and imagined him leaning back into whatever he was sitting on. 

_“With everything,”_ fingers thrumming once again, _“Everything making you tired. Keeping you too busy.”_

You laughed incredulously. “Thanks, but I don’t think you can help with that.”

_“Oh?”_

“Yeah.”

_“Tell me what it is.”_

You sighed, letting your hands fall on your thighs with a smack. “Damn I don’t know, rent? Food? Transportation? Living. Living on this overpriced rock everyone apparently thinks is so great.” 

You were trying not to sound bitter, but he was really managing to pry the worst from you. 

He hummed again, sympathetic and understanding. He let your exasperated statement hang for a moment before replying, _“And what if I told you I could help? With each one of those things, sweetheart?”_

Your mouth dropped open, and your heart - which up until now had been at peace - kicked up with a vengeance. Was he being serious?

“Wha…what do you mean?”

_“Exactly what I’m saying.”_

“I’m gonna need you to be a lot more specific.”

He chuckled. _“I mean, I can take each and every one of those things off your shoulders.”_

You stared at your com like it had grown a Mando helmet and walked into your living room. “Are you…I…what, you want to pay my rent? Is that what you’re saying?” Your tone was borderline mocking. 

_“Mmmhm.”_

You scoffed softly, confusion and disbelief. “And my food and my tram card?” 

He paused, thinking for a moment. _“Well…ideally you wouldn’t need to take the tram, but…sure. We can start there.”_

Your eyebrows bent into the deepest and most confused scowl of your life. Your mouth dropped with a choked sound. “I… _what?_ Are you being serious right now?” 

_“Absolutely.”_

And something in his tone made you believe him. He meant every word of it. 

“Why would you want to do something like that?” Your mocking disbelief was replaced with confusion. Genuine, awed, and hesitant. 

His answer was easy and instantaneous. _“Because you’re someone who deserves it.”_

“You don’t know that.”

_“I do.”_

You fell silent. Arguing with him was like arguing with a wall, you already knew. 

His proposal was…intriguing, to say the least. Your overworked brain residing in a broke girl’s body was practically drooling at the idea. No rent? No tram? Free food? _Hell_ yeah. 

However, overworked as it was, your brain was not quite strung enough to let you jump. Instead, years of female-living-solo instincts kicked in and set off an alarm. Bright, red, and loud. 

“What would be in it for you?” You asked him. 

_“Your voice,”_ Din answered. _“Perhaps, on occasion, your company.”_

Hmmm…

“Sounds a little sketchy,” you said bluntly, and Din laughed. 

_“Granted.”_

You had no idea what to say next. Your heart and your tired feet were screaming yes, your brain and its alarms were screaming no, both pulling on your every mental capacity in a vicious tug of war. 

You had to say no. That was safest. As tempting as the idea was, this whole thing was way too sudden. A brand new, entirely foreign concept had been dropped in front of you and everything was rushing too fast for you to digest it properly. You weren’t in the right headspace to make a good decision. You had to say no. You had to-

 _“Would you like to think about it?”_ Din offered. 

Cool, sweet relief coursed through your body. Heart sated with the possibility of a yes. Brain sated with the lack of an immediate one.

“Yes. Yes I’d like that.”

Another hum. You were growing fond of that sound. _“Alright. Take all the time you need. Call me when you’re ready, ok?”_

“Ok,” you said quietly. 

When he paused you heard him take a breath, deeper than the others, and you weren’t sure if it was relief or anticipation or…you weren’t sure what it was. 

_“Ok…”_ he echoed. _“Have a good night, sweetheart. Talk to you soon.”_

“Ya,” you agreed, voice still meek and low. “Good night.”

You waited for him to end the call, your com still sitting away from you on the table, but he didn’t. The screen remained alight with its active call screen, his muted breaths on the other end of the line, until you leaned forward and ended it yourself.

The second the line went dead, about five hundred heaping lungfuls of air came rushing from your body all at once. You sunk, deflated and heavy against the couch, limbs numb. 

That was _not_ where you expected that call to go. 

~

Nya Cornur. 

The name sprung to your mind about five minutes after your call with Din. An old friend from college, one of the few you’d stayed in touch with after graduating. Until about a year ago that is. Life got the best of both of you, and you hadn’t talked to her in forever. 

You recalled going out for drinks with her one night. She had pulled up in a sleek airspeeder as you were getting off the tram, toting a purse that cost as much as your apartment. She paid for all your drinks and food that night. Curiosity got the better of you, and you asked her about it. Last time you’d seen her, she had been in the same boat as you, a broke post-college kid just scraping by. 

Nya had grinned, flashed you a thick golden credit chip, and said: “All thanks to daddy!”

When you looked confused, she had attempted to explain to you her advantageous arrangement with…how had she put it? “A very well-endowed older gentleman.” 

The whole thing sounded weird and creepy at the time. You had brushed it off, much more interested in the next round of drinks she was ready and raring to buy you. Now, it seemed she was the very person you needed to talk to. 

Her name had bounced around in your head all day at work, trying to remember if you still had her number, and if you did, how you’d even start that conversation. _Hey Nya, I know we haven’t talked in like a year but I could really use some info on that whole ‘Daddy’ arrangement you mentioned a while back._

Dear Maker, was that really what you were getting yourself into?

You tried not to focus on the terminology. Instead you focused on Nya’s number you had managed to find buried deep in your com’s memory. It was a miracle you still had it. It would be an even bigger miracle if it was still her number.

A sickening sense of familiarity washed over you as you found yourself once again anxious on the couch with the com in front of you. You were strangely more nervous then when you called Din. 

You didn’t need to be. The moment she heard your voice, Nya was utterly thrilled. 

_“Oh my goodness darling how nice to hear from you!”_ She practically screeched on the other end, and you winced with a smile. _“How have you been? Tell me everything! I’m sorry I’ve been so dreadful about reaching out to you. I have no excuse, you know how flighty I am dear!”_

You laughed. “No worries. I’ve been bad about it too.”

 _“Well, look at us! That’s why we get along so well dear.”_ She laughed, light and tingly and it made you smile. _“Now tell me, what’s new with you?”_

“Not a lot,” you said, which was about ninety nine percent true, aside from the whopping brand new one percent.

_“Still on Coruscant?”_

“Yep.”

_“Still working at Crix?”_

“Yep.”

_“Oh wonderful, I always loved that little place. And Kerg is such a sweetheart.”_

Sweetheart _._

You swallowed. “Ya…ya he is. Um…what about you? Anything new?” 

_“Oh you know me darling, always indecisive. Probably not one thing about my life is the same. I’m on Naboo now, living with a man five years younger than me. Oh, I’ve started this wonderful new diet of greens and fish. Supposed to be cleansing. If you ask me it’s nothing more than a laxative, but my boy toy is alllll about health these days.”_

You laughed, trying very hard to actually listen and not get overly distracted by your goal. Boy toy. That was a pretty natural segway into what you actually wanted to talk about, right? 

“Hey, speaking of…uh…” you hesitated. “Boys-“

 _“Oh darling do you have one!?”_ Nya interrupted excitedly. _“Boyfriend? Fiancé? Husband?”_

Your laugh was nervous and awkward. “Uh, no, not exactly. That’s actually partly why I called. I was hoping…you might be able to give me some advice. If you don’t mind…” 

Nya gasped, but you could tell it was steeped in delight. _“Oh honey I live to give boy advice!”_ You heard her shuffling, quickly arranging herself and her surroundings, though you couldn’t imagine what the purpose was. Then, everything went still. _“Ok. Tell me.”_

You cleared your throat, took a breath, and told her everything. About how you met Din. How he showed up at the shop. The undeniable attraction you felt toward him. Your suspicion that it was mutual. The money he gave you on your every meeting. And finally his generous, ridiculous, unbelievable offer. 

“...and it made me think of this thing you said you had, a long time ago,” you explained. “You had this guy who bought all sorts of stuff for you, and it sounds similar to what he’s suggesting, so I was just hoping maybe…you could tell me what I’m getting myself into?” 

Nya was quiet for so long, you checked if the line had gone dead. But no, she was still there. You bit your lip in worry. 

After a moment, Nya squealed. _“Oh. My. Goodness! My sweet girl has found her very own Daddy! Oh, I am so happy for you!”_

Your brows shot up, unsure smile on your lips. “So…it’s a good thing, then?”

 _“Well...ok, sorta,”_ Nya said quickly, her tone taking a serious turn. _“Let me calm down. We should talk about it. You met him organically it sounds like, so that’s good. One point off the creepy scale.”_

You laughed. “O…k?”

 _“Sorry dear,”_ Nya continued, sounding flustered. _“I’m trying to think here. There’s a lot to consider with these sort of things, and you’re new to this. I want to make sure I steer you right.”_

You nodded to yourself and waited patiently for her to collect her thoughts. 

At length, Nya tried again. _“Ok. How old is he?”_

“I’m not sure. Middle aged, maybe?”

_“How aren’t you sure? How old does he look?”_

You knew she could hear the grimace in your voice when you answered, “That’s the thing, uh…I don’t know what he looks like.”

_“What? I thought you said you met him in person?”_

“I did! But he’s a Mandalorian. They don’t take their helmets off so…I’ve never actually seen his face.” 

Nya went quiet again. You waited. Expecting a berating, or at least a passing comment on your stupidity. 

Instead, her voice was filled with awe when she answered. _“A Mandalorian? Sweetheart…”_ she whispered. _“Are you telling me…that Mando…The Mando of Coruscant…has offered to be your Daddy?”_

You cringed at the wording. You really wished she wouldn’t say it like that. But her comment piqued your interest enough that you let it slide. “Um…ya, I guess? Unless there’s another Mando on Coruscant?” 

_“Not with that kind of money.”_

“You know him?”

 _“I know of him,”_ she clarified. _“He’s one of the richest men in the sector, at least. Quite possibly the galaxy, but no one knows for sure.”_

You perked up at this. She seemed to have some answers. “What can you tell me about him?”

 _“Not much,”_ she admitted. _“He’s very private. But someone like him has to get around a bit. Put all that money to work. Make appearances. Most of it is rumors. But I’ve met a handful of people who claim to know him, and…they all say he’s pretty nice.”_

“Nice” wasn’t saying much, you already knew that. You were more curious about something else.

“Where does all his money come from?”

_“Not many people know for sure. Like I said, he’s private, and not just with his personal life. I heard one rumor that he owns a bacta refinement plant.”_

You cocked your head. Ok, that was pretty normal. 

_“Someone else said he owns that huge strip club in the upper city.”_

Ok. Little weird but…still just a business, technically?”

_“Then I heard rumor he might be slave dealer-“_

Not ok. Definitely not ok. 

_“But honestly, I think most people just believe he’s a trust fund baby. Well placed investments, that sort of thing.”_

You hoped it was that one. Dear Maker you hoped it was that one. 

_“If it concerns you, just make sure you find out. Make it a part of the terms.”_

“The terms?”

 _“Yes, that’s the most important part,”_ Nya explained excitedly. _“You need to make him be very clear with you on what his terms are. What he expects from you. And you be clear with him on what you want.”_

“What kind of terms do…” you hesitated, unsure what to call it and definitely not ready to use her word, “Do…they, usually have?”

Nya sighed. _“I’ll be honest with you hun, 99.9% of the time, they want sex.”_

Not that surprising. You had kind of figured. 

_“And if you’re good with that, go for it girl. Just make sure he has a clean bill of health. Make him give you proof.”_

_“_ Ok…”

Were you good with it? You honestly weren’t sure. The idea of sleeping with Din was far from repulsive and yet…the thought that he possibly viewed you as just another thing he could buy sort of put a damper on the personality you thought he had. The one you had been attracted to. 

_“Did he mention any terms when you talked to him?”_

“Just that he’d want my voice, which I assume means talking to me, and…my company, sometimes.”

 _“Ah, there it is,”_ she said knowingly. _“You make him explain exactly what your company entails. Don’t let him be vague with you, not for a second.”_

You nodded firmly. Then realizing she couldn’t see you, “Ok. I will.” 

There was one more thing bugging you. Something that hadn’t occurred to you until Nya recognized your description of Din. It felt silly, and probably didn’t matter, but you still wanted to know. 

“You mentioned you knew of him. Is that just because he’s rich, or…does he do this sort of thing often?”

Nya hummed understandingly. _“I’ve only heard of him because he’s rich dear. I used to run with a few sugar babies back in the day, and none of them ever got their claws in Mando. I know of a few girls who tried buttering him up, but nothing ever came of it.”_ Then, teasingly, _“Maybe he was just holding out for you.”_

You made sure she could hear your eye roll in your tone. “Sure, yeah.” 

Nya giggled. Warnings and caution complete, you spent the rest of the evening telling her about Din, and she listened with rapt attention. About how polite and nice he seemed. About measuring him for his suit, and the little peek you stole while getting his inseam, to which she squealed in delight. About the way his voice had sounded over the com, and his little name for you that you were quickly growing to love. 

By the time your call ended, you could hardly wait to talk to him again.

~

You did wait though, and it was nothing more than petty pride. 

You _wanted_ to call him that night, right after getting off the com with Nya. But the very next day didn’t seem like enough time to indicate you had really thought about it. Plus, you wanted to make him squirm just a bit. The longer you waited, the more worried he might get, the more control you’d have.

Petty. Childish games. But Nya had stressed the importance of control in these situations, so control you would have. 

You called him the night after. Two days was plenty of time, surely. Having grit your teeth through an entire workday, thoughts consumed only of him, you flew through your door with energy, pulling out your com before your shoes were off. 

You were once again on the couch, but the feeling was not so sickening this time. Your heart was much calmer, fingers not hesitating in the slightest as you punched his number in. He picked up on the first ring. 

_“Hello sweetheart.”_

“Hi.” 

Despite your confidence, your voice was meek. Something about him just _did_ that to you. 

_“How are you?”_

“Good.”

You didn’t return the question, knowing how easy it was to get lost in talking to him, and wanting to get down to business. Din seemed to sense this, and extended the courtesy himself. 

_“Did you have time to think?”_

“I did…”

You paused, and he hummed. Something patient and inquisitive. Warm. Maker, you really liked that sound. 

“I think…I might like to do what you’re suggesting. If you can tell me some things,” you added quickly. 

_“Of course. Anything you like.”_

“Ok…” You gathered your nerve, feeling it slipping. First things first. This was important. “Where does all your money come from?”

 _“Ah,”_ he said, as though he expected that question. _“I own XBac.”_

He said it so casually. “I own XBac,” just like you might say, “I own a pair of shoes.” As if XBac was not a name everyone in the galaxy could immediately recognize.Your mouth hit the floor. 

XBac was the largest medical manufacturer in known space. In every hospital, every doctor’s office, every New Republic base on every planet, you could find XBac. Nya was right, he was definitely the richest man in the sector, and quite possibly beyond. 

You tried not to sound too starstruck when you responded, still curious. “So…you own it like…you’re the head of the company?”

 _“Not exactly,”_ he explained. _“The company itself has a CEO. She makes most of the business decisions. I’m not involved in much of the day to day running,”_ He sounded more relieved than haughty at the fact. _“I’m the majority shareholder and head of the board. They only call me when they want to make big decisions involving money.”_

You nodded slowly at his words. Ok, that was fine. Not a slave trader at least. Just more rich and powerful than you had even begun to fathom. No biggie. 

On to your next question. 

“Alright. And then…there’s something else I want to know…”

_“Tell me.”_

“If we did this, what exactly would you want from me?”

_“I told you sweetheart. Your voice, to talk to you. Sometimes your company.”_

You recalled Nya’s words, and tried to summon her courage along with them. “Yes, but what _exactly_ does having my company entail?” 

Din hummed in understanding. _“I don’t expect sex from you, if that’s what you’re asking sweetheart.”_

“It is, thanks,” you spit out on reflex, but his answer had your head reeling. He had to be lying. Had you really managed to find the 0.1% that didn’t expect to sleep with you? “Then what would you want?”

A heavy sigh prefaced his answer. _“Unfortunately, my position occasionally deems public appearances and travel necessary. They’re torture, and I hate every second,”_ he paused, and you could hear him shift the com in his hands as he took a breath, _“But I like you. I enjoy your company. It would be nice to have someone I didn’t despise to talk to. Make those nights go by a little faster.”_

Damn, was that pile of goo in your chest your _heart?_

It sounded so sweet. So wholesome. Almost too sweet to be true. Your skepticism was high, as was your guard. You couldn’t trust him yet, you knew. But damn if you weren’t hooked on the idea. 

“I think…I could do that,” you said after a minute. 

And from the tone of his voice you could imagine the way his face lit up, melting your heart even further. _“Excellent. I’m glad to hear that sweetheart.”_ Then, before you could think to ask what happens next, he took yet another weight from your shoulders, _“Do you work tomorrow?”_

“No. It’s my monthly day off,” you joked, but you could tell from his sharp exhale he didn’t find it funny. 

_“Good. I’d like to meet with you. We can talk, go over some details. Would you be ok with that?”_

You paused. Chewed your lip.

 _“You can bring someone, if you like,”_ he added. 

You smiled. You had no one to bring, really. Nya was off planet, and unless you wanted Kerg or Lor to find out about this, which you most definitely didn’t, you would have to go alone. But his willingness to let you bring a friend set you at ease. 

“Ok…ya, I…I’d like that.” 

He gave you another pleased hum, and your heart grew warm. 

After making brief arrangements, you thought Din would bid you goodnight and end your call. Instead, you were pleasantly surprised when he slipped into another easy conversation with you. You barely even realized it until an hour had gone by, the tone from your clock reminding you of the time you usually needed to get to bed. 

What had you even talked about? You remembered something about food, which kinds you liked. How many speeders he had, which was two. Whether he’d let you drive one, which was a yes. Maker, he was easy to talk to. He gave no indication of his desire to end the call until you yawned. 

_“You better get to sleep,”_ he rumbled gently, and the deep roll of his voice practically lulled you into it right then. 

“You’re probably right,” you admitted through another yawn.

_“Good night sweetheart. I’ll see you tomorrow.”_

“Night…see you tomorrow…” 

You knew your voice was tainted with eagerness, but you didn’t care enough to try and hide it. 


	3. The Tram is Bad

The next morning, you woke to 500 credits dropped in your PayCred account. 

_At least get a taxi instead of the tram sweetheart_ , the note read. You couldn’t help but laugh. He obviously had no idea how much a taxi cost. They were too rich for your blood, but 500 could secure you private rides for at least a week. 

On instinct, you nearly sent the extra back to him. Someone overpays, you let them know, obviously. Then you realized how absurd that would be in this context. So instead, you bought a coffee at the cafe across from your apartment building on the way out. A large one, with the big dollop of cream they charged extra for. It tasted incredible. 

In the cab - which had been a challenge to flag down, as you hadn’t ridden one in years and they were kriffing _fast_ \- you called Nya again. You told her about your conversation with Din, the terms he proposed, and that you were on your way to meet him, hoping to get her input. 

_“Ah. Arm candy,”_ she said when you were finished. 

You scrunched your nose. “Huh?”

 _“Arm candy,”_ she repeated. _“That’s a rare one to find. Just wants a cute girl to tote along when he has to go in public. Make him look good. They usually get off just on being a caretaker and getting to have you around. That’s one of the easiest gigs there is sis, nice job!”_

You wanted to argue, as that wasn’t quite the impression you got from Din. But Nya was technically the expert in this field, so you kept your mouth shut, not sure enough to contradict her. 

_“Watch him though,”_ Nya continued, _“It wouldn’t surprise me if he decided to up the terms later on. Get you hooked on his money and then demand more from you.”_

Again, didn’t sound like Din. But again, inexperience kept you quiet. 

“Ok. I will.” 

The cab was fast and your destination wasn’t far. Soon the blurring city outside slowed to a stop. You peered out the speeder window to see a large gate looming on the sidewalk in front of you. Redescent Park. 

You had been there exactly once, on a school trip many years ago. You remembered being utterly astounded at the quality of the grass beyond those walls, the freshness of the air. At the time, when your teacher explained this particular park actually cost money to enter, you had been confused. How could they put a price tag on grass and sidewalks and trees? Didn’t everyone deserve to enjoy nature?

Even now, years later, the concept didn’t make sense beyond the basic explanation of _this is Coruscant_ , which was reason enough. Here, you had to pay for the grandiose privilege of grass without garbage and benches without armed tweak heads. 

The speeder stopped and the door popped open. 

“Well look I’m here, gotta go,” you told Nya at the same time you paid the driver. “Is it ok if I call you later, tell you how it goes?”

 _“Ummm no,”_ Nya said pointedly, and your heart skipped a beat, face baffled before she explained, _“You’ll call me in at least an hour to let me know you’re safe and he isn’t crazy.”_

“Oh, ok,” you said with a laugh. “Sure.” 

Nya bid you goodbye in her signature bell-like voice, and you slipped your com back into your pocket. Stepping out of the speeder, you paused to stare at the immense structure before you. On either side of the gate, massive walls of solid metal stretched as far as you could see. With the orange vested guards at the gate, the only thing giving the place away as a park and not a prison was the thin view of green grass slipping through the gate’s forcefield. 

What truly caught your attention though, were the park’s patrons. Lining up outside the admission gate were all manner of species, each of them decked in extravagant dress. Your brows furrowed as you caught sight of elegant gowns, headdresses, even tiara’s. All looking out of place in the outwardly sterile environment of the park’s entrance. You imagined they’d look even more so on a flowery footpath. 

Then, looking down at your own clothes, you felt a prick of doubt. You were just wearing pants. A comfortable blouse. A jacket. One of your nicer ones, but still just a jacket, thin and perfect for the tepid Coruscant autumn. Boots that came halfway up your calf. You know, clothes any normal person would wear for a walk in the park. But apparently, you missed the dress code memo. 

Before you could spend too long self analyzing, a familiar and welcome voice broke your thoughts. 

“Hello.” 

You looked up and grinned at a black visor. Gloved hands in suit pockets. _Your_ suit pockets, silver trimmed chest pocket and all. Minus the waistcoat. You didn’t mind. It was a casual sort of day, after all. 

“Hey,” you greeted him. You briefly wished you could see Din’s smile, but from the tilt of his chin you were confident it was there. You pointed hesitantly to the fancy crowd near the gate. “I guess I uh…didn’t realize it was a black tie event,” you said with a laugh. 

Din spared them half a glance before turning back to you. “Oh, don’t worry about them,” he assured you. You waited for additional explanation, but he didn’t provide it. Instead he was suddenly next to you, guiding you forward with a gentle touch on the small of your back. “Come. This way.” 

Oh you liked that touch. You really really really liked it. 

Expecting to get in line behind the dress parade, you were surprised when he led you to the side, down the gate and away from the queue. At the very end, where the gate met the wall, stood another admission guard. Not one person lined up outside his partition. But as Din approached, he opened a slot in the force field without a word. 

“Hello sir,” the guard greeted. 

Din acknowledged him with a nod of his head. You glanced back at the bustling line of people, then forward again as Din led you through the force field, still touching your back lightly. Your lips parted in surprise. 

“Is that like, your personal entrance or something?” You jabbed, though it wouldn’t have surprised you in the least if he said yes. 

“Not exactly,” he said. “It’s not mine, just for those who don’t have to wait in line.” 

“Ahh,” you hummed, impressed. 

When Din had first suggested a park, it seemed odd. You had thought lunch or a coffee shop would be the most logical choice. You hadn’t necessarily… _forgotten_ about his helmet, it just wasn’t something you were used to taking into account. Now once again in his presence, you realized a park made perfect sense. You would have felt awkward eating by yourself, and someone like him was bound to attract stares when sitting in one place too long. Here, you could simply walk and talk to each other in peace. 

“So do you come here often then?” You asked him. You noticed with slight disappointment that he removed his hand from your back, gloves now resting at his sides. He may not have needed to guide you anymore, on this wide open side walk, but…you still wouldn’t have minded. 

“Not really,” he answered. “Just a few times. For meetings.” 

As he said this, a glistening little bird suddenly swooped low across your path, diving down sharply before slinging right back into the air. You watched it with wide eyes, smiling as it landed high on a nearby tree. A warm gust rustled the thin purple leaves around it as it stuttered out a high pitched tune. 

“This is definitely a nice place for meetings,” you said lightly. “Way better than some office.” You glanced at him, and were caught off guard to find his visor already boring into you. Your lighthearted smile faded, only from nerves. You tried to reclaim it, not wanting to give him the wrong idea. 

“It is,” he agreed. 

You looked away then, biting your lip and hating how nervous he made you. Ahead of you on the path, another group of exceptionally well dressed park goers passed, a few of them throwing dubious glares in your direction. Another thing to be nervous about. You turned back to Din with an awkward smile. 

“I’m uh…definitely feeling underdressed.”

“Are they bothering you?” Din asked, his voice carrying a slight edge. 

“No no,” you said quickly, eyes wide. If anything, you thought _they_ were the weird ones, dressed so exuberantly for such a simple activity. It still didn’t feel good to be stared at. “It’s just weird is all.”

Din nodded. “Sorry. Maybe I should have warned you. It’s some sort of odd…culture. Among the type of people who come here.” 

You cocked your head curiously. “Culture?”

“Mhm. A lot of people who come to Redescent are…less interested in actually coming, more interested in the fact that they _can_.” 

You pursed your lips thoughtfully, considering his words. Then understanding dawned on you. “Ooooh I get it. It’s like a rich people park, so they only go to show other people they’re rich?”

“Exactly.” 

You gave him a mischievous smile. “Is that why you come?”

“Do _you_ think that’s why I come?” He countered without missing a beat. 

You laughed. “No. No I don’t.” 

“Good.”

Conversation ebbed then, but the silence didn’t feel awkward. The steps of his dress shoes and your boots rang out faint and hollow on the fiberglass cobblestones. You scanned the grassy hills that surrounded you, green and lush, dotted with the colors of flower gardens and wide spaced trees. It was slightly warmer in here than outside and you recognized the feel of artificial weather. Everything finely tuned to accommodate the venue’s demographic. 

Your thoughts took an unfortunate turn as you remembered the kids who would never get to experience this place outside of a single school trip. The free parks on Coruscant were poorly maintained, grass long ago crushed into oblivion or well on its way there, the places no more than open sections of dirt for spice dealers and criminals to congregate. Many kids were teenagers before they even saw grass for the first time. 

Your depressing thoughts drew a sigh from your lips, which happened to occur at the same time another group of over dressed patrons walked by. Din’s head snapped up. 

“If they’re making you uncomfortable, I can have them leave,” he said firmly. 

You turned to him, quickly waving your hand. “Oh no no it's not that, I just-“ you stopped short, face suddenly curious as the full implication of his words hit you. “Wait, _what?_ You could do that?” 

“Yes.”

Without moving your head, your eyes slid to the chattering group that passed by, then back to him. “You’re kidding me. How would you even do that?”

Din pulled a com from his pocket, holding it up and tilting it back and forth in front of you. 

You grinned and your eyes narrowed, intrigued but disbelieving. “No you can’t. There’s no way.”

His breathy chuckle graced your ears. “I certainly can. Do you want me to?” 

You bit your lip and cocked your head. Glanced behind you to the people rapidly disappearing down the sidewalk. You shouldn’t. It’d be so rude. What kind of spoiled princess asks for a whole park to be cleared out just for her? 

But it wasn’t about that, really. Part of you didn’t believe him and you kinda just wanted to see if he could actually do it. You really _really_ shouldn’t-

“What the hell,” you said with a laugh. “Yeah. Do it.” 

Another chuckle, and Din pressed his com. It rang for barely a second when a voice answered, 

_“Yes sir?”_

“Clear the park please,” Din said simply. 

_“Right away sir.”_

“Thank you.”

And he slipped the com back into his pocket. You looked at him, trying to hold down a ridiculous grin. 

“There’s no way,” you mumbled through laughter. “No kriffing way.”

The sidewalk crested over a slight hill, a view of the park stretching out before you. Din nodded his head to the winding river of sidewalk that cut through the grassy sea below. 

You followed his nod, and your mouth immediately dropped. Sure enough, the park was now dotted with Redescent employees, each clad in a shiny black vest, politely directing each and every visitor toward the nearest exit. Most of them complied easily, looking only mildly irritated as they followed the black vest’s direction. A few were being more argumentative, requiring the presence of two or three employees who were firmly directing them out. 

Your hand flew to your mouth, and you laughed. Hard. 

“Oh nooo,” you stuttered, shoulders jerking. “Oh maker you were serious. Oh no, I-“ Your laughter had you weak, relentless chuckles racking your frame. Your free hand reached over to squeeze Din’s forearm. You didn’t notice the way he stiffened beneath your touch. “I feel so bad, oh no.” 

“Don’t feel bad.” There was a faint crack in his voice that had you turning to him, curious. It was gone with his next words. “They were making you uncomfortable.”

“Not _that_ uncomfortable,” you cried, collapsing in another giggling fit, squeezing his arm harder to brace yourself. He cleared his throat. 

You took a few deep breaths to calm down and placed your other hand over your eyes. Cracking your fingers just enough to peek, you saw another group of people being led away and immediately closed them again, face hot. 

A few more breaths and you managed to reclaim your composure. You released Din’s arm and uncovered your face, instead placing your hands on either of your cheeks as you looked at him, still a bit flushed with embarrassment. 

“I guess I know to take you very, very seriously from now on.” 

“Mmhm,” he quipped. 

He started walking again and you followed. The park was quieter, no distant footsteps or whispers echoing in the trees. Now you could hear the constant shatter of the birds, darting too and fro amongst the bushes. The rustle of the wind in thick grass, sending it rippling in shiny waves. 

You walked together, alternating in bouts of conversation and brief, comfortable silence. He had yet to bring up the “details” he mentioned over the com, and you wondered if he would, or if he was waiting for you to do it. The latter didn’t seem likely. Din appeared to exercise meticulous control over each word and action, always knowing what he wanted to say and when. You decided to play along and gave him the reins, waiting to see where he’d lead you next. 

Your conversations bounced around nothing in particular, until you found yourself telling him about a time at work when you had to fit an obnoxious, sticky fingered pre-teen for a multi-colored suit. You were in the middle of a sentence detailing the child’s absurd requests, when you cut yourself off with an intriqued: “Ooh!”

Up ahead, a kiosk selling fizz juice had caught your eye. You looked at it wistfully for a moment before turning back to Din, continuing. “Anyway, he kept insisting he wanted like, this ugly patchwork of different colors-“

“Mhm,” Din acknowledged with a nod. His steps turned for the kiosk.

You continued babbling as you automatically followed him. “And I tried explaining to him, not only would it not look good, we didn’t have that many colors all in the same material, so I wouldn’t even be able to sow them all properly.”

“Right,” he said. He was in front of the machine now, reaching into his pocket. 

“And even his mother was being absolutely-,” you stopped yourself as you looked up, finally realizing what he was doing. 

“Oh wait...I’m sorry, I-“ you laughed nervously and rubbed your arm. “I wasn’t saying…I mean, you don’t have to…get me one.” You gestured dumbly to the kiosk. 

Din’s helmet rolled to look at you, and despite its lack of features, you could see every ounce of exasperation in it. “Sweetheart. If this is going to work, you’re going to need to get very used to me buying you things.” 

You flashed him a grin and looked down, feeling blood rush to your cheeks. “I know…I just…”

You just what? Weren’t used to straight up asking people for things. Weren’t used to someone noticing what you wanted and just offering it to you. The attention, and implied care behind it, felt good. You just didn’t know how to accept it yet. 

Instead of waiting for you to finish your half hearted sentence, Din nodded to the machine. “Would you like to pick a flavor, or shall I choose for you?” 

You glanced at the juice options, then back to him. “You choose,” you said decidedly, echoing the many times he’d said those words to you. 

Din shrugged and looked at the kiosk. He slid his chip through the reader and pressed one of the buttons. A small door on the front of the machine slid open, and out came a clear red bottle, bubbles of carbonation already gurgling up the sides. He handed it to you. 

“Thank you,” you said softly as you accepted it. 

He simply nodded, and the two of you kept walking. The bottle cracked and hissed as you opened it, more bubbles rising to the surface. You took a sip and hummed contentedly. 

“Mm. Strawberry. Good choice.”

He nodded softly, and didn’t quite look at you when he admitted, “I like that one,” just a touch quieter than his normal voice. You grinned at him. There was something very humanizing about imagining him stopping at that kiosk, maybe after one of his meetings, buying a strawberry fizz and then slipping his helmet off in his speeder to drink it. 

As you sipped on your drink, Din wordlessly guided you both to a small table at the edge of the walkway. You sat across from him, holding your fizz in two hands and crossing your legs. He leaned back easy in his seat, resting one forearm on the table as he looked at you. 

“So his mother?” He asked.

You looked up absently, brow quirked. “Huh?”

“You were saying something about the colorful suit boys mother?” 

“Oh! Ya, um…” 

You drew your lips in, forehead creasing in thought as you struggled to recall the direction that story was going. Coming up empty, you looked back to him. “I have no idea, I don’t remember what I was gonna say,” you admitted with a laugh. 

“Ah. My bad.”

“Oh it’s fine,” you assured him. “I’m sure I was boring you to death anyway.”

You chuckled at your own expense, but Din cocked his head.

“Of course not.”

The warmth in his words caught you off guard, pulling an embarrassingly large smile onto your face. You looked down in an attempt to hide it, not wanting him to see the affect such a simple sentiment had on you. You were afraid he was going to view you as some poor mistreated dog, when really you were just a little awkward and intimidated. 

Sensing your discomfort, Din promptly changed the subject.He leaned forward slightly, folding his hands on the table. “So. Sweetheart,” he said in that wonderfully gentle yet firm tone of his. 

Oop. Here we go. You sat up a little straighter, ready for the topic that had been on your mind since arrival. 

“Is there anything else you’d like to know about me? Anything I can tell you, to make you more comfortable?” 

You blinked in surprise. You had expected the first thing out of his mouth to be a little list of requirements for you. He was proving to be full of surprises. 

“Ummm…” you quirked your mouth to the side and tapped your drink as you thought. Then looked hesitantly at the blank visor in front of you. “Can…am I allowed to ask about the helmet?”

“You are allowed to ask me anything you wish.” 

You smiled again, leaning forward. “Ok then. Uh…” You paused, wanting to make sure you phrased your thoughts in an appropriate way. “Do you always have to wear it? Like constantly?”

Close enough. 

“In public,” he answered. 

You nodded. “So…can you ever take it off in front of other people? Like ever?” 

He tilted his head to the side, very slowly. There was a beat of silence before he answered, “Around those I trust. In private.”

“Ok…” Then, voice weak with uncertainty, “Do you think…I mean…” you shuffled in your seat, “I know we just met and all so I’m not saying- but I just mean, do you think maybe…eventually…” You bit your lip, feeling yourself floundering and unable to stop it. “Sorry.”

It felt stupid to ask so soon, but you couldn’t help it. It was more than just selfish curiosity. You _were_ curious. Extremely so. But to you, a big part of the type of relationship you were about to build with this man included trust. It was hard to wrap your head around fully trusting someone you couldn’t see. You could understand him needing a little time. He had to trust you as much as you had to trust him. At the same time, you weren’t sure how long this would last if you couldn’t look into his eyes. 

But Din hummed in understanding. “Don’t be. You’re just fine.” He tapped his gloved fingers on the table a few times before answering, “Yes. In time. If you really want to…you can see me.” 

You nodded quickly, face lighting up. “I do. I really do. Whenever you decide,” you added quickly, not wanting to be too demanding with something you knew was important to him. 

You paused to look into what you hoped were his eyes, the narrow slot hiding orbs of unknown color. Despite not being able to see them, you could feel them on your face, returning your steady gaze. You smiled at him. Felt him smile back. Your lips parted with words on your tongue-

Just as your com beeped loudly. Your face dropped in startled realization. Nya.

“I’m so sorry,” you told Din, pulling your com out. “I have to get it, it’s uh,” you looked back up at him, smiling in a combination of nerves and mischief. “Well, I told my friend I’d check in within an hour to let her know you weren’t crazy.” 

Din’s shoulders moved with his faint laugh. “Ah. Better get it then.”

“Yeeeah,” you agreed with a giggle, raising the com to your ear. “Hey Nya I’m fine, sorry I-“

_“Sweet holy Maker girl you nearly gave me a heart attack!”_

Your face scrunched in confusion and you pulled the com away from your face to check the time. “Nya,” you said, bringing it back to your ear, “It’s barely three minutes past the hour.”

 _“And you’re lucky I didn’t call the Republic Guard to go looking for you!”_ She quipped, utterly unapologetic. 

You smothered a smile and hoped the volume was low enough Din couldn’t hear. “Well I’m sorry. I’m here now, and I’m fine.”

 _“Ooohh,”_ she said lowly, tone shifting from scathing to interested in less than a second. _“Is it going well?”_

“Yes.”

_“Is he still being nice? Good manners?”_

“Yes.” Your finger inched for the volume slider and nudged it down just in case. 

_“Does he still smell dreamy?”_

“Nya!” You squirmed and looked down, smile slipping. “I can’t really talk now, I’ll call you back later ok?” 

_“Oh sure dear, have fun! Ogle him for me!”_

She was gone before you could say another word. You looked up slowly, feeling your cheeks heat for the second time that day. 

“Sorry,” you said again. 

“Nothing to be sorry for.” 

Damn it, stop apologizing, remember? That was going to be a tough one. You decided to change the subject to something more centered around _him_ talking. 

“So, questions.”

“Mhm.” His sound punched the air inquisitively, gloves folded together in a gentle fist on the table. 

“How often will I make appearances with you?” Your expectations were pessimistic on that front. You weren’t in love with the idea of constantly going to high brow cocktail parties or whatever it was he was forced to attend, but a paid apartment was worth the struggle. 

A thoughtful and unsure hum escaped his helmet. “I wish I could give you an exact answer to that. It depends. Sometimes things come up short notice. Probably…a few times a month.”

Your lips pursed in surprise. You had expected a bi weekly sort of thing. Though in retrospect, everything about him made that likelihood minimal. He clearly kept his social activities to a bare minimum. 

“Ok. Not so bad. And I check in with you through the day, right?”

“Mhm.”

“And call you at night.”

“Mhm.”

You tilted your head to the side, letting equal thoughts of hesitancy and mischief dance across your face. “Aaaand in a few months when I’m hooked on your money you might up the stakes and want sex?”

Din’s back straightened like a rod, a choked sputter ripping from his throat. You barked out a laugh and covered your mouth. That was the most disarmed you’d ever seen him.

 _“What?”_ He cried. 

You stifled your giggles to answer him. “Sorry. That’s just something my friend told me to look out for.” 

Din looked to the side, shook his head, then looked back at you, helmet tilted at a loose and tired angle. “Why would she tell you that?”

You shrugged. “She has experience with these kinds of things.”

He sighed, long and deep, and you thought he was going to ask what kind of _things_ you were referring to or why you were getting advice on him in the first place. Instead he regained his composure and leaned back in his seat. 

“No, sweetheart. I’m not going to do that to you.”

You leaned close and narrowed your eyes in exaggerated suspicion. “And how do I _know_? Hm?”

He shrugged. “I suppose you don’t, really. Not until a few months roll around.” 

You laughed and leaned back, turning your hands up in acceptance. “I guess you’re right.” Folding your arms on the table, you flashed him a smile and were about to bring up the topic that interested you most, that of exactly how the whole money thing would work, when just then his com decided it was _it’s_ turn to ring. 

He hummed apologetically as he pulled it from his pocket. You cocked your head when you noticed it was different from the one he used earlier. 

“Ah, I’m sorry sweetheart, I actually need to get this,” he sighed. “Won’t be long.”

“It’s ok,” you assured him, waving a hand. “Gotta let _your_ friend know _I’m_ not crazy.” You grinned at him.

Din chuckled. Then, instead of answering the com in his hand, he slipped it back into his pocket and tapped the side of his helmet. 

“Yes?” He said gruffly. 

You couldn’t hear the response of who he was speaking to, the call apparently being transmitted in his helmet now. Din tapped his fingers. 

“He can’t,” he said after a moment. 

There was a pause as he listened, and you noticed his shoulders roll slightly.

“That won’t do him any good.” 

You glanced at the ground. Took a sip of your fizz. Tried to act like you weren’t paying that close of attention. 

“I think she’s right.”

Another pause, shorter. Gloved fingers still tapping. 

“Mm…no, not yet. Send him a message first.” 

Silence. A puff of air that wasn’t quite a laugh.

“Then do what you think is best.” 

A thoughtful hum. You watched a squirrel dart through the grass next to the walkway. 

“True. But I think this one calls for your version Fett.” 

He nodded. “Good. Let me know how it goes.”

He tapped his helmet again and looked back to you. “Sorry about that.” 

You sat up and shrugged, smiling nonchalantly. “No worries. Sounded important. Sorta.”

He laughed. “Sorta?”

“Well you know. I actually have no idea.” Your soft laugh joined his as you looked at him. You tilted your chin up inquisitively. “So…two coms?”

“Mm,” he mumbled in confirmation, pulling each from his pocket. He held up the one you saw him use earlier. “Public,” held up the smaller one he just put away, “Private.” 

“Someone’s important,” you teased.

“Someone likes to filter the nonsense that constantly comes his way,” he clarified. 

“Must be nice.”

“Yup.” He put the coms away. Then once again folded his hands on the table, leaning slightly forward as he looked at you. “Now. Back to you.”

You giggled. “Ok.”

His palm tapped the table top a few times in contemplation. “There’s something else we need to figure out.” 

You nodded, listening.

“I would be fine with you quitting entirely, but I understand if you’re not comfortable with that yet. We could start with just reducing your schedule a bit if you like.”

You didn’t respond right away, your mind slow at accepting the full implication of those words. Din elaborated at the same time it sunk in. 

“Your work.”

“Right...right…”

Obviously that was the point of this whole thing. Work less. Maybe not at all. He said he wanted you to have more time, be able to relax. You wanted that to. But with your life having revolved around work for so long, the reality of its impending absence was intimidating. 

“We can work up to it,” Din assured you gently, as though reading your thoughts. “Take it a little at a time. Maybe talk to your boss tomorrow, see what can be worked out.”

You gave a small nod. “Ok. Yeah.”

Then Din was reaching into his pocket. “I have something for you.” 

He pulled out a thin silver rectangle and offered it to you. You took it in hand, noticing its slight weight despite its small size. The sign of a new and good quality credit chip. You looked back up at him with big eyes. 

“Use this for anything you need when I’m not with you.” 

You subtly shifted back and forth in your seat, trying not to look too terribly happy. You were _not_ the greedy type. No way. But this whole thing was becoming very real and you couldn’t say you weren’t excited. And come on, someone who spent over a month living off street food deserved a little excitement. 

“Send me the information for your rent tonight and I’ll transfer it to my account,” Din continued. 

The corner of your lip curled just slightly. “O-okay…” 

“And sweetheart?”

You met his gaze, brows up. 

“Please don’t take the tram anymore.”

You laughed, mouth finally splitting into the smile you’d been containing. “No problem. I just took my first cab ride in years this morning, and I’m already hooked.” 

You slipped your new credit chip into your purse, right next to your old one. Din’s head was tilted as he watched you.

“Do you have a license?” He asked suddenly.

“What, like a speeder license?” You laughed. “No. Never bought a speeder so I never needed one.” Then you pointed at him with a cheeky smile. “But you already said I could drive one of yours, can’t take it back now.”

He chuckled gently. “No, you’re right. If you’d like to get a license you’ll need practice. Then you wouldn’t have to take a cab either.” 

You bit your lip to hide a smile at the implication that he would apparently, theoretically, buy you a speeder. Or at least let you use one of his. Your conscience quickly gave you a chiding, reminding you to put on the brakes and remain skeptical and noncommittal. 

Din softly jerked his head in the direction of the exit. “Wanna try?”

Your face dropped. “What, driving? Now?”

“Mmhm.”

“Really?”

“I thought we agreed you were going to take me seriously from now on?” 

You pursed your lips and made a very serious face. “Right. Of course. Yes sir,” you spat gruffly. 

Din scoffed and from the toss of his head, you imagined he was rolling his eyes. Then he stood, came to your side of the table, and offered you his hand. You looked down at his upturned palm, black gloves shiny in the artificial sunshine. You smiled up at him, curious but not unwelcoming, and accepted it. 

It felt right. As he led you back the way you’d come, up winding sidewalks, palm closed gently around yours, something deep in your body felt warm and content. Like you should have been holding his hand the entire time, instead of walking icily beside him. He didn’t get too close to you. Didn’t tug too demandingly. Only a single point of contact connected your bodies, with an otherwise polite dose of space between. Friendly, slightly flirtatious familiarity, but innocent at its core. 

Your conscience attempted another chide at your excitement, but the thought was washed by the pleasant tingle spreading through your body. 

~

Din’s speeder was nice, unsurprisingly. Black paint shiny enough to see yourself in, split twin engines jutting from the front in thin, sharp angles. The seats were made of smooth leather, plush and comfortable. Dozens of tiny red switches and buttons spread out on the console. 

“You can change the airflow if you’re hot or cold,” Din told you from the driver’s seat, gesturing to a dial with a temperature reading on it. He was currently driving you to a more isolated part of the city, after you spent about two seconds at the steer and decided the busy highway he was parked next to was far beyond your skill level. 

You nodded, cranking the dial a few notches to combat the slight chill on your skin. Then, glancing out the window to the blur of buildings and people and speeders, you laughed. Din glanced at you.

“What?”

“I just realized,” you rolled your head toward him, leaned back against the seat. “I literally just got into the speeder, of a man I don’t know very well, and specifically asked him to drive me to the middle of nowhere.” 

You could sense his hesitancy as he looked between you and the road.

“I don’t know if that means you’re trustworthy or I’m just stupid.”

“Hmm…probably both.” 

You scoffed and smacked his arm playfully. Din chuckled. Then, his tone was a touch more serious when he said,

“If you want I can…let you out.” 

You smiled softly at him in appreciation. Then narrowed your eyes, pretending to think. “Hmm…promise not to kill me?” 

A quick breath of laughter. “Promise.” 

You gave his arm a reassuring squeeze in place of a smack. “Then I think we’ll be just fine.” 

The place he wound up taking you was not so much isolated as it was empty. After driving for only a few minutes, he pulled into a parking garage. It sat relatively high on the city level, right off a busy freeway and attached to what appeared to be an office building. As the boom gate rose to admit Din’s speeder, you looked around and noticed the place was wide open, stretching far into the depth of the building. Not a soul in sight. 

“What is this place?” You asked. 

“Parking for one of XBac’s offices,” he explained. 

“Don’t tell me you had this place cleared out for me too,” you joked with a laugh. But when Din remained quiet, you whipped around to face him. “Din. You didn’t, did you?” 

You heard him take a hesitant breath before answering, “It’s really not any trouble-“

“Oh _Din_ ,” you groaned, covering your face with your hands and flopping back against the seat. You were smiling, but you weren’t sure if it was amusement or embarrassment. You were feeling equal amounts of each. “You didn’t need to do that, we could have just gone to like, an abandoned street or something!” 

“I wanted you to feel safe,” he argued as he brought the speeder to a stop. 

“I would have felt safe on an abandoned street,” you insisted. 

Another subtle toss of his head, and you knew he was rolling his eyes. He managed to be quite

expressive through that blank slate.

“Do you want to drive or not sweetheart?”

You tried to toss him one last glare, but you were too excited to play irritated for much longer. Din pressed a control to pop the doors and you hopped out, steps light with enthusiasm. You grinned at him as you walked around the speeder, briefly tapping from one foot to the other. The rumble of his laugh was warm and exciting as he passed you. 

In the driver’s seat, you placed your hands softly on the control steer, running your palms up and down the twin shafts in anticipation. Next to you, Din punched a few commands into the console. 

“Have you ever driven before?” He asked.

“A few times,” you said, half paying attention as you adjusted the seat to suit you. “They let us practice in school. And one of my exes used to let me drive theirs sometimes.” 

He hummed in acknowledgement. “What kind was it?”

You looked up, face distracted in excitement. “Huh?”

“What kind of speeder did your ex have?”

You puffed your cheeks out with a huff. “Psshh, I don’t know. Small and red. Just one engine I think.”

Another hum, and he nodded toward the front of his speeder. “This one will be a bit faster then. Try to start out easy.” He tapped the console. “I put on a rise lock, so you don’t have to worry about smashing us into the ceiling.” 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” you teased. 

“I’d call it realistic caution,” he countered lightly. 

“Yeah yeah,” you huffed with a gentle eye roll. Then you braced your hands on the steer, squaring your shoulders. “Ok. So, accelerate,” you jostled your knee to indicate the lever on the floorboard. “Brake,” another jostle, “Left, right,” you turned the steer on each word. “Easy enough.”

“Right,” he confirmed. “Just remember not to pull on the steer too much or the rise lock will kick in, make it stutter.”

“Ok.”

“And remember to start out slow, this thing has a bit of a kick.”

You smiled patiently. “Ok.” 

“Try not to hit the brakes too hard.”

“Okaay.” Your hands tightened on the steer, foot tapping on the floorboard. 

“And try to watch your downward pull, it doesn’t have a descent lock so we could still potentially hit the floor.”

Your head fell back against the seat and you turned to him with a playful eye roll. “Ok ok ok, anything else daddy?” You drawled. The relevance of that word, in relation to who this particular man was, hit you about a split second too late. You had intended it as a sarcastic jab, but Nya had truly ruined it for you. Other than a quick blink, you gave no acknowledgement to the flub, keeping a teasing smile in hopes of letting it roll past, natural. 

Din stared at you. You raised your head in question, watching him expectantly for the next round of instruction. Instead you saw his fingers curl into a gentle fist on his thigh. He cleared his throat roughly. 

“Nope,” he said, voice surprisingly small. “Go ahead.” 

You flashed him a bright grin and grabbed the steer, shuffling in excitement. You cranked the gear shift, pulled the steer up, revved the engine-

And punched it. 

“Holy-” Din’s helmet was thrown into the seat, back rigid. You giggled in pure glee as the speeder tore down the garage, surroundings instantly melting into a gray and black blur. 

“I said start _easy!_ ” Din cried from the passenger seat.

“This is easy!” You shouted back. 

The garage was massive, a long stretch of space so far in front of you, you couldn’t see the end yet. You punched it faster. 

“You’re scared to drive on the highway but not to do this?” He quipped in disbelief, hands gripping the door handle. 

“Exactly!”

A wall finally came up fast and you gave the brakes half a pump, slowing just enough to veer to the left without toppling. 

“Maker-” Din grunted as his shoulder was crushed into the door. Your delighted laugh off set his grumbles of disapproval. 

“This isn’t practice,” he grumbled, but you could hear the hint of laughter in his voice. “This is just messing around.”

“I’m driving a speeder aren’t I?” 

“In a way you could never get away with on the road.” 

“Oh I beg to differ,” you taunted, and tore into another sharp turn. Din could only laugh and shake his head in wonder.

You tore around the garage for a long while, Din white knuckling anything he could reach next to you. Eventually, you slowed down enough to do some actual driving. Begrudgingly so, as you were content to rip around the space at full speed for hours, but Din managed to talk you down. He guided you through the use of a few controls beyond the basics and gave you directions down an imaginary road. Once past your desire for adrenaline, you actually listened, getting a feel for the way his vehicle moved. 

“There you go,” Din praised as you made a turn at a mind-numbingly boring but safe pace. 

You yawned dramatically, earning you a subdued laugh. 

“This is the driving to expect on an actual road sweetheart,” he reminded you. 

“I know,” you flashed him a smile, “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” 

He shrugged in acquiesce, and you went just a little faster down the next stretch. 

After driving for what you felt was not long enough, a glance at the clock made you realize the day had slipped by without you noticing. It certainly didn’t feel as though you’d spent so many hours in Din’s company, and yet the evening was fast approaching. You remarked on the time in surprise. 

“Huh,” Din said, equally intrigued. “We should probably get going then. I promised the employees their speeders would be back before the end of the day.”

“Oh lord,” you scoffed with a laugh and an eye roll, bringing the vehicle to a stop. You slung the door open and waved for Din to take your place, feeling nowhere near ready to face actual other drivers on the road. 

Once Din was back in the driver’s seat, it suddenly occurred to you, you had no idea how you were getting home. The most obvious solution was for Din to drive you there. The thought made you pause, unsure of your comfort level with it. You glanced at him uncertainly. He hadn’t given you any reason not to trust him...and several reasons _to_ trust him...still, the thought of him knowing exactly where you lived, being able to find you any time he liked…

“I can...uh…” Din spoke hesitantly, and your face softened towards him. “If you want, I don’t mind to-” his fingers rose from the steer in a gesture toward the speeder, suggesting what his mouth apparently couldn’t quite put together. His unsure tone warmed your heart. You hadn’t heard him speak so hesitantly in all the time you’d known him. “Or if you want I can call you a cab,” he added. “Won’t bother me.”

And just like that, your reservations vanished. 

“If you have time to drop me off, that’d be great,” you said sweetly. 

Din sat up a little straighter, pleased at your acceptance. “Definitely. No problem.” He took the rise lock off the speeder, punched it into gear, and pulled out of the garage. 

~

It had never occurred to you to be embarrassed about where you lived. Yeah, you were kinda poor. You lived in a cheap part of town. So what? You had invited friends over who had more than you without a second thought. Hosted them in your old apartment in its shady neighborhood, had plenty of fun, and never for a moment thought yourself less than them. 

Given the entire nature of your relationship with this man, it especially didn’t make sense for you to start having such feelings now. He obviously knew you were broke. Obviously stood head and shoulders above you in terms of living standards and wealth and...pretty much everything else. 

So _why_ was your face heating as he pulled up outside your apartment complex? With its street only parking for its tenants few rusted out speeders, and its mid level location shoved beneath stacks of newer and better buildings.

He pulled to a stop out front and you turned to him, cringing to see his head tilted down slightly to look out your window. Your mind painted a lovely picture of his expression, certainly full of disgust and judgement. 

“Thanks for today,” you said rapidly, picking up your purse and popping the door, needing to be out of his sight. “I’ll call you toni-”

His hand on your forearm stilled your hurried movements. You turned back to him, lips parted in trepidation. 

“Thank you for meeting with me,” he said softly, fortunately not addressing your frazzled state and making you grind out the embarrassing reason for it. “I enjoyed it.” 

A flash of confidence returned and you gave him a smirk. “Even my driving?” 

His chest rumbled with a brief laugh. “Yes, actually. Even your driving.” 

“Good, then maybe I can drive us next time.”

“Mm. Baby steps,” he chided. “I’d like to live long enough to see you actually get a license.” 

You scoffed and shoved his arm, stepping out of the speeder with an air of finality. Din chuckled as he watched you leave. 

“Don’t forget to send me your rent account,” he called after you. 

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” you tossed back, leaning down to give him a wink. 

Something told you he was grinning under there as you pushed the door shut. 


	4. The Wall Had it Coming

“Ok. Kerg, I need to take a few days off my schedule.”

_Hmm...no...try to be a little nicer._

“Kerg, I would really like to work less, do you think we could work that out?” 

_Yeah...yeah that’s nice...but what if he says no? I need to be at least a little assertive…_

“Kerg. I know you need me around the shop, but I’ve been working a lot and I have to reduce my schedule. Can we work this out?”

_Yeah...that’s good. Perfect._

Your hand stilled on the back door of the shop. You hadn’t felt this nervous since...well, yesterday, meeting Din, but still. Not only were you unsure what to do with yourself outside of work, you were terrified of abandoning poor Kerg. He made it no secret how much he relied on you. Trying to tell yourself he was just your boss and you owed him nothing beyond the labor of your wages didn’t help. The man was your friend, and more generous with you than an employer was obligated to be. This was going to be difficult.

You stole a breath and walked through the door, gritting your teeth as if they held the last shreds of your determination. This was best for you. The first thing Din asked of you. You could do this. 

The first thing you heard upon entry was the bark of Kerg’s exasperated voice. 

“You can’t keep doing this to me Lor!”

He was at his desk, back to you, comm at his ear, shoulders hunched. You listened as you began the daily ritual of hanging your jacket and purse, ears trained on his commotion.

“I _have_ been patient with you. You call out almost twice a week and I barely say a word. But you know this is a busy time of year for us, I need you!” 

You stayed back, worrying your fingers together. Positively excellent timing, thank you Lor. 

Kerg continued, voice strained and tight, “I understand that, and if that’s all it was we wouldn’t have a problem. But it’s always ‘ _I have a splitting headache this’_ or ‘ _my family is on planet that’._ And you really want me to believe your great uncle and second cousin or whoever the hell is coming to visit you every other week?...No. No. Look, I’m gonna let you slide this one last time, but I need this to stop in the future or we’re gonna have a much more serious problem, understand?...Alright.”

Kerg sighed and slammed the comm down, letting his head fall into his hands. You stepped forward slowly, face etched with worry. 

“Hey Kerg...everything ok?” You tried quietly. You knew the obvious answer, but it seemed the most natural starter. 

“Oh it’s just Lor again,” the old man said with a huff, turning to you. “He keeps calling out for the most ridiculous excuses. I know we may not be the busiest shop, but it's enough that things are starting to get behind without him.” 

You took up your familiar post of leaning on the edge of his desk next to the chair, where the paint was growing slightly worn on the edge from years of hosting your behind. 

“Well hey, you know I’m always happy to help out.”

Great. Conversation was already going in the exact opposite direction you needed it to. The words had flown from your mouth without a thought. 

“I know hun, and I appreciate it, but that’s not your responsibility,” Kerg nodded to the comm with a scowl, as though it were the offender, “He just needs to get it together. You work so much as it is.”

Ooh, nice. This could be your in. Or was the timing a little insensitive? Maybe…but you couldn’t think about that right now. 

“Well you know,” you started casually, turning your toes in as you stared at the floor. “I can actually cover most of Lor’s stuff in a few hours. Even if I stayed just a little longer...I could get his and my stuff done.” 

He shook his head, fingertips against his temple. “No dear. I can handle his part. You don’t need any more on your plate.” 

You angled towards him, heart thumping. The timing was not ideal. Far from it. But Din asked this of you. You could do it. You could do it.

“Well…” You started again, trying for assertiveness. “Actually Kerg...speaking of...my work, uh…”

He raised his head, eyes curious.

“Uh…” You shifted on the desk. “I can still pick up most of Lor’s stuff, but uh…”

You tried to look at his face. Your fearful eyes met his deep, kind, soulful ones. Looking at you with curiosity and affection. Your heart turned over painfully. 

When you didn’t continue, Kerg cocked his head, eyes somehow softening even further. “Yeah hun?” 

_Oh Maker._

“Uhhh…” You stuttered, lips opening then closing, courage dashed to pieces. “I was just gonna say...I’m a little behind on that tux resizing, but I think I can catch up before the client needs it.” 

Dammit. 

Kerg smiled kindly and patted your hand. “No problem dear. I know you’ll have it done. Even if you don’t we can just tell them it’s delayed. They’ll live.” 

You smiled gratefully and donned a patchwork of expressions you hoped resembled relief and not self loathing. “Great. Thanks Kerg.”

“Of course hun.” 

You hopped from the desk and scurried off for your fitting room, legs heavy with guilt. One man in your life was spared disappointment, but now the other had it in store. Though it just happened the “other” was paying your rent and kinda needed to take priority. You collapsed in your chair and thumped your head down on the work table, aghast at your own inability. 

The morning dragged by painfully slow as you considered how to re approach Kerg. You tossed around the thought of finishing as much work as possible, getting everything caught up and then some, before talking to him. After one look at the extent Lor had allowed everything to fall behind, you realized it would take days. You didn’t have that long. 

You considered buttering him up with a box of the little sweet cakes you’d brought in last Life Day, ones he’d absolutely fawned over. It may help, but with the state of the workload, you knew no amount of cakes would soothe the inevitable sting of being left hanging. 

By the time lunch rolled around, you reached the unfortunate conclusion there would be no ideal time or circumstance. You were just gonna have to suck it up and break the poor guy’s heart. 

You gave a resigned sigh before biting into your sandwich, staring absently at the sidewalk in front of you. The bench in front of the shop had been the venue for countless of your lunch time thinking sessions, usually revolved around the next week's budget or whether you should take the risk on another live plant. Today’s session had you more anxious than all of those combined.

A black speeder whirred down the speedway in front of you, reminding you of two things. One, out of habit you had packed your lunch for the day, forgetting that you could have ordered from a restaurant down the street you’d been eyeing for months. And two, you needed to check in with Din. 

You pulled out your comm and brought up your messages with him from earlier, trying to figure out what to say. The first time had been easy. You sent a simple ‘good morning, how are you’, he’d answered in kind, then you both sent a few things back and forth until you left for work. 

Now you were unsure how to start the next conversation. Would it be dumb to say good afternoon?

Yeah...probably. Sounded like something an old guy with an eyeglass would say. Good morning was fine, but good afternoon? Too formal. 

For lack of anything better, you finally settled on _Hey,_ pressing send before you could allow yourself to overthink further. He responded almost immediately. 

_Hello sweetheart. How is your day going?_

You smiled at his endearment. It didn’t feel like it could ever get old.

_It’s fine. Just having lunch now. What are you up to?_

_In a board meeting._

_Should you be messaging then? Lol_

_Definitely. It’s the only thing keeping me awake._

You laughed at your own response as you typed it,

_Bored meeting_

His next response was delayed, and you indulged yourself with the thought it was because he was trying not to laugh in a room full of people. Even so, you weren’t surprised when his message was as dry as the others. 

_That’s a good one._

Sure, you’d take it. You smiled and shook your head as you looked down at your sandwich, a single bite missing. Then glanced down the street, towards the tempting restaurant only a few paces away, where a decent line of people gathered at its window.

What had Din said? ‘Anything you _need_ when I’m not with you.’ Did he mean need need, like essentials? Probably not...but maybe?

Despite it feeling redundant, your fingers were typing the question before you could think otherwise. 

_Hey...is it ok if I buy other stuff with the card? Like at a restaurant?_

This time his response was instant. 

_Of course sweetheart. You can buy anything you want. You don’t have to ask me._

You smiled.

_Ok, I kinda thought so, just wanted to be sure. Didn’t wanna act like a brat lol_

Another delay, longer than last time. Or maybe the conversation was over? You waited a beat, then shrugged and began packing up your sandwich. The same one you’d eaten for years, ever a creature of habit. It really took the simplicity of being able to buy something different to break you from the trench of familiarity. 

Your comm beeped, making you pause. 

_You’re not._

Then, separately a few seconds later, 

_Sweetheart, I don’t want you to ask me for permission. I’d like you to get used to using it whenever you like. If it makes you feel better, you can let me know or say thank you when you get something. But you don’t have to do that either._

Your heart warmed as you rapidly tapped out an answer. 

_Ok, I’ll try. Shouldn’t be that hard to get used to. I’ll probably always say thank you though_

_That’s just fine._

Slipping your comm and sandwich into your bag, you stepped lightly down to the restaurant, grateful to find the line had shortened. You peered at the menu above the service counter, long and complicated and in a different language in some places. Your eyes grew as you scanned it, blowing an intimidated puff of air from your lips and appreciating the addition of pictures. Each item was new to you, yet equally enticing. 

Fortunately, your deliberation ended before your turn arrived as you set eyes on a safe looking pasta dish in green sauce. You pointed to it instead of risking pronunciation. The Twi’lek behind the counter turned to follow your finger, rolling his eyes slightly as he turned back around to punch your order in.

As you walked back to your bench, new lunch in hand, you tapped out another message to Din. 

_Thank you for lunch-_

You paused, fingers midair. Some unnamed instinct made you want to give him a form of endearment, as he had to you. What it should be, you didn’t know. His was perfect, and you liked it. Friendly, affectionate, still appropriate. But everything that crossed your mind for him sounded too romantic and unfitting. _Baby, darling, love._ Your relationship wasn’t really of that nature.

 _Daddy_ flew across your mind unironically for a heart stopping moment. You blinked the thought away, shaking your head. 

_Thank you for lunch,_ you sent solo, before your brain did something dangerous. 

_You’re welcome sweetheart._

It was funny how you could almost hear his voice speaking the words in your ear. 

~

The rest of the day did not go according to plan. You fully intended on trying to talk to Kerg again, but instead a combination of being genuinely busy and being too scared to seize the few opportunities that arose, dashed that plan to pieces. You crashed through your apartment door that night feeling like a grand parade of disappointment. 

You wanted to hear Din’s voice. Even though it would likely be tinged with displeasure- maybe even frustration- once you told him of your failure, you still longed for that rich baritone. You sat down and called him before doing anything else. 

As usual, he picked up quickly. 

_“Hello there.”_

You frowned. _Um...where is my sweetheart?_ You wanted to say. 

“Hi,” you mumbled instead. 

_“How was your day?”_

“Ok…” you leaned back on the couch and propped your feet up on the table. “Pretty busy. Lor called out again.”

Maybe if you set up the justification first, he wouldn’t be as upset. Yeah, good plan. 

_“He does that often?”_

“Mhm. Kerg is getting sick of it. Honestly I think if he could find someone to replace him, he would have been out of there a long time ago.”

_“Sounds like he should be.”_

“Yup.” 

You conjured the words to break your bad news to him. While they came easily, the courage did not, and you bounced to another subject in hopes of putting it off. “How about you, how was your board meeting?”

He huffed dismissively. _“Another waste of time that could have been a holo message.”_

“Aren’t you the head of the board?” You asked with a laugh. “Can’t you make that decision?”

 _“I may be the head but I’m outnumbered,”_ he explained. _“By a group of people who love to bicker and debate in the same room.”_

“Oohh sounds like just your cup of tea.”

 _“Hmm,”_ he drawled. _“Exactly.”_

You laughed and were delighted to hear the sound echoed by him. Then, he said something that cut your joy off sharp.

_“Did you get a chance to talk to your boss?”_

What a way to douse cold water on a fun moment. Your body deflated with startling speed. 

“Um...I’m afraid not, I’m sorry.” 

Din hummed, and you weren’t sure if it was just acknowledgement, or if the lace of disappointment you thought you heard was real. _“That’s ok sweetheart.”_

Figures. Now he says what you want to hear, as a consoling for your failure. 

“I did try, I just-” the over-explaining bug bit before you could stop it. “Kerg has just done a lot for me, and he needs my help. I hate to let him down.”

 _“I understand. It’s ok.”_ His voice was soft. Soothing. 

“Lor has just been screwing everything up, letting stuff fall behind, and I wouldn’t care if it was just him who had to pay for it, but Kerg doesn’t deserve that.”

_“Mm.”_

You watched the comm like it was somehow going to give you a clue to what he was thinking. “Are...you mad?”

 _“Of course not,”_ he said sternly. _“I know this is hard for you. Take your time.”_

You sighed in relief. Of course he wasn’t mad. Of course. “I really do want to.”

_“I know you do sweetheart. You will.”_

You smiled appreciatively, wishing he was there to see it. “Can we talk about something else now?” You asked with a laugh, wanting to hear his voice but not on a topic that made you so anxious. 

Din chuckled. _“Sure. Just so happens I had a question for you.”_

“Perfect.” You sat up straight and clasped your hands together. 

_“Would you be able to come to an event with me, next week?”_

A now familiar smile of fondness and surprise graced your lips. He was asking. The man was seriously about to pay for everything in your life on the condition of your company when requested, and he still had the decency to phrase it as a question. Whether denial was an actual option, you weren’t sure. But you weren’t going to bother with the stress of finding out just yet. 

“Of course,” you answered. “What kind of event?” 

_“Small,”_ he said. _“More like a dinner, actually.”_

Your brow creased with curiosity. “A...dinner?Are you going to...eat with people?” You asked with a laugh.

 _“No,”_ he said, faint chuckle on his breath. _“Most everyone I do business with knows I’ll attend their dinners or their cocktails, I just don’t partake.”_

You gave a thoughtful hum. “Sounds like that’d make things boring.” 

_“Perhaps,”_ you could hear the shrug in his tone, _“But they’re boring anyway.”_

You nodded in absent agreement. “What’s the dinner for?”

_“Just business talks. The owners of a charity upstart want my investment.”_

“Ahh, fun.”

“Mm.” 

You rotated on the couch, laying back against the arm, stretching your legs out in front of you. You wanted to keep him talking. He was so stingy with his words, only ever giving you exactly what you asked for, not a syllable more. Sometimes not a syllable at all, just a sound of acknowledgement. It was nearly a crime for someone with a voice as nice as his to keep it to himself.

“Sooo…” You kicked your feet up, swinging them slightly. “What else did you do today? Other than the boring meeting?” 

He released a long breath, thinking. “Oh, nothing important.”

Truly a sparkling conversationalist. 

“Tell me anyway,”you insisted lightly. 

He laughed, and you could hear the question on his breath. “Why?”

You rolled your eyes. His cluelessness was both endearing and frustrating. He would ask you endless questions, keep you talking about yourself for longer than you’d ever thought possible, yet the second you tried to turn the tables he was at a loss. You realized if you were going to get what you wanted, you’d have to just tell the truth.

“I just...like hearing your voice,” you admitted quietly. 

Din went silent. You waited, brows slowly rising in expectation with every empty space he didn’t fill. Then, you lifted the comm to watch the seconds on its call timer tick up. You smiled, both eager and nervous for his words. Seven seconds. Ten. Twelve-

 _“I like hearing your voice too sweetheart,”_ Din finally said, his voice a new type of husky that didn’t sound intentional. 

“And you get to hear mine all the time,” you pointed out. “So now it's my turn.”

The rumble of his chest was a close second to what you desired. _“Alright,”_ he acquiesced. _“Let’s see…”_ fingers tapped slowly on an unseen object, “ _What did I do today…”_

Your attention increased ten fold as Din recounted his mundane little story. Picking up a cold caf on his way to work. Spilling some on his suit pants and dabbing at it in the fresher, which made you giggle. The infamous bored meeting which dragged immensely over time. Lunch of a sandwich, chips, and another cold caf brought to him by his assistant. A long and frustrating comm call with a business partner, details of which he assured you were too mind numbingly dull to share. Coming home and sitting down for just a bit, until you called him. 

Each syllable off his tongue like honey. 

_“See I told you,”_ he finished with a chuckle, _“Nothing important.”_

“Perhaps,” you agreed. “Still loved hearing it.” 

You heard him hum and shift, the familiar muted creak of his weight moving against leather. _“I think that brings it back to my turn yeah?”_

“What do you mean?” 

_“I’m sure there’s a little more about your day you could tell me,”_ he coaxed. 

You laughed softly, bringing a hand over your eyes. “Seriously?”

_“Mmmhm.”_

You couldn’t help but shrug to yourself. “Alright...ummm…”

And so the night wore on, each of you drawing more from the other’s lips until you forgot to keep tally, speaking of your own accord. It was strange, the way you seemed to crave his interaction. 

Among the many things Nya had told you of these arrangements, one she stressed most was the completion of your “chores”, as she called them. Doing whatever it was you agreed to for him. The calls were supposed to be one of them. A check off the list that ended in your every need being met. 

Thing was, talking to Din didn’t feel like a chore. Far from it. You had a feeling the outings would, especially as their frequency increased. But so far, coming home and getting to hear _sweetheart -_ even over the comm - was feeling more like a highlight than a mar on your day. 

Silence stayed at bay for hours, until sleep hung heavy on your eyes and tongue. Dull alley lights flickered from your window, pulsing yellow flashes behind your narrowed lids. Repetitive and familiar and soothing. Din was saying something. Your name, maybe…

_“Sounds like it’s time for you to get to sleep, alright?”_

“Mm...kay,” you mumbled, not entirely sure if you heard him correctly. 

_“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, ok?”_

You didn’t answer. You could hear him, faintly, whispers slipping into the cracks of your oncoming dream. Slumber weighted your lips. 

_“Hey, still with me?”_ Din said gently. 

“Mm…” you moaned. “Yeah. Goodnight da...mmDin...goodnight.” Your voice was thick and far away from your own ears. You were just conscious enough to perceive a slight hitch in his breath, too far gone to attach any semblance of thought to it.

_“Goodnight sweetheart.”_

~

The back door of Crix swung open like a trebuchet, saved from collision only by the massive pile of cloth scraps behind it. Kerg turned around with a jolt, finding your gaze wild as you stepped over the threshold, watching you in shock and uncertainty. 

“Kerg, I need to work less.” You announced triumphantly. 

The old man’s jaw dropped. You gave him no time to answer before continuing. “I know there’s lots of work to do and I want to help, but I work too much, I’m always exhausted, and it's not fair for my life to revolve around work just to pick up Lor’s slack, and-”

“Whoa, whoooa there,” Kerg interjected, holding his hands up as if to steady you. “Just slow down a second hun.” 

The determined scowl on your face immediately softened, replaced with guilt. Your own hype had sunk in too far, making you forget that Kerg was on your side. 

“Oh no,” you sighed, "I’m sorry Kerg. “ You went over to sit on the desk. “I didn’t mean to…” you gestured vaguely with your hands, “be like that. I just…” 

Kerg nodded and took your hands softly in his own. “Hey hey, don’t worry about it,” he said gently. “I get it. You’ve been stressed.”

Your head dropped as you nodded. He hit you with that charming soft smile, the one you imagined a grandad might give to his granddaughter, and it melted your pent up heart. 

“If you need to work less, that’s fine. We’ll work it out.”

Your eyes snapped back up. “Really?” 

“Of course,” he said sternly, patting your hands. “Can’t have my star tailor burnt out now can I?”

You laughed shyly, avoiding his gaze. “Sure…”

Kerg gave the top of your hand a final pat, then opened a drawer and took out his data pad. You watched him tap around on the cracked screen, bringing up the shop schedule. Currently, your name was “officially” on five of the days, the sixth day an undocumented but inevitable constant. 

“Ok!” Kerg said decidedly. “How many days would you like hun?”

~

That night, you practically flew home. 

Well, flew to the street where you could hail a cab. Then sat in silent agony as you internally begged the driver to go faster, anxious to get home and tell Din your exciting news. 

At your apartment, you made a beeline for the elevator before stopping short, remembering to check your delivery box. Aside from yesterday’s lunch, you had only bought one other non essential with Din’s money so far. Eco substrate, a pricey but effective tool for keeping neglected plants thriving in poor living conditions. Exactly what your greenery graveyard needed. 

You found your delivery box, the one just a few inches too high to be comfortable for your height. You’d been pestering the guy below you to trade for months, but he wouldn’t budge.

After punching in your code the door slid open, revealing a big, soft pack of eco substrate. As you pulled it out, standing tall on your toes to get a good grip on its bulk, you noticed a second package hiding behind it. You frowned in confusion. You didn’t remember ordering anything else. Taking both packages, you decided to figure it out upstairs. 

In your apartment, you inspected the unknown package. It was small and rectangular, a hard shell box. Your name and address were across the front, but no return information. A ping in your conscience tried to warn for caution, but curiosity won out. There was no way you _weren’t_ opening a mysterious package that showed up in your box. 

The clasps were a challenge and took you a minute to crack. You picked and pried at the seemingly unnecessary level of protection, grunting in satisfaction as you finally felt it give way.

A smaller box revealed itself from the confines of the hard shell. You opened it, tossed its lid aside- 

And found yourself looking at a brand new comm device, nestled snugly in the frame of its packaging. A smile curled your mouth as you lifted its thin, sleek form out of the box, and you had the answer to your mystery. Din. 

It had occurred to you to buy a new comm. You had just been...working up to it. Getting used to the idea of spending someone else's money before indulging in such a large item. Apparently, Din considered two days to be plenty of work up time. 

You took a few extra minutes to get the device turned on and set up before calling him, the eagerness to share your news dulling slightly in the wake of this new excitement. After the hurdle of figuring out how to access its primary function, you finally hit call on Din’s number.

_“Hello sweetheart.”_

Maker, it was like he was in the room with you. You’d never noticed how shabby the sound on your old device was.

“Hey there,” you greeted.

 _“Oh, that’s so much better,”_ Din said, almost like a sigh of relief. 

You giggled briefly. “Definitely. Thank you.”

 _“My pleasure.”_ Then, over the faint sound of tapping fingers- was that a nervous tick of his or just habit? _“It’s just the same one I have, I’ve always liked it fine. But if you want something different I can-”_

“It’s perfect,” you interrupted, still smiling. “Trust me I’m in no position to be picky. I love it.” 

_“Ah ah,”_ he chided. _“You are in a position to be as picky as you like, understand?”_

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. It was like he _wanted_ you to turn into a spoiled and demanding brat. 

“Sure sure,” you drawled, making sure to let the sarcasm slip. Din ignored it.

 _“There's a good girl,”_ he said warmly. 

Wait.

Oh. _Oh,_ that did something. What the hell was that. Something strong and hot that spread quickly from your thumping heart to your clenching stomach to the very heated space between your legs and-

Moving on. New topic, pronto. 

“Hey, I talked to my boss today!” You said excitedly, shaking your head to clear it. 

_“Yeah?”_ Din said with interest. _“How’d it go?”_

“Great! I should have known it would, honestly. Kerg has always been sweet.”

_“How many days will you work?”_

“Four.” Then, automatically assuming he would think that was still too much, “And maybe less eventually, once things get caught back up. And if Lor can stop being an idiot.” 

Din hummed his approval. _“That’s excellent sweetheart, good job.”_

His praise made your cheeks heat to an embarrassing degree. Despite being alone and far from his sight, you covered the smile that took over your face. 

“Thanks…” you said quietly. Then, louder, once again bouncing to the next topic. “Hey, I had a question about that dinner thing. Is it formal? What should I wear?”

_“Anything you want.”_

Another eye roll. Sometimes he was _too_ accommodating. “What will everyone else be wearing?”

The faint shuffle of fabric told you he was shrugging. _“I’ll be wearing what I always wear.”_

“Okaay...so a suit...and will anyone be wearing a dress?” You prodded. 

_“Most likely.”_

You gave him an exasperated huff of a laugh. “So it’s formal.” 

_“I suppose,”_ He said nonchalantly. _“You can still wear what you want.”_

You narrowed your eyes at the comm. “So you’re telling me, if I showed up to a formal dinner with you, where everyone else was dressed nicely, and I was in pants and a t- shirt, you wouldn’t be the slightest bit embarrassed?” 

_“Nope.”_

You let out a scathing laugh. “Liar.”

Din hummed indifferently. _“Believe what you want sweetheart. You can still wear whatever you like.”_

“I would _like_ to not stand out like a sore thumb,” you said, turning and eyeing your small closet. “Problem is, I haven’t worn any of my dresses since I was a teenager. They probably won’t even fit anymore.”

 _“Mm. Not a problem,”_ Din said in a lilting tone, and left the indicative statement hanging. 

You bit your lip, knowing exactly what he was doing, but deciding to egg him on anyway. “Becaaause?”

He sighed. _“Sweetheart..”_ His voice was now low and warning. 

Caving, you giggled. “Ok ok, because I can buy something.”

_“Good girl.”_

_Kriff._

You wiped your palms across the fabric of your pants and quietly cleared your throat. “That means I have to go shopping though.”

_“Do you not like to?”_

You shrugged. “I don’t dislike it. I just don’t very often. I’m never sure where to start...feels kinda weird to go alone...that sort of thing.” 

Din’s tongue clicked thoughtfully. _“I could get someone to go with you, if you like.”_

Of course he could. You weren’t even going to question that. 

“I don’t know,” you mumbled in uncertainty. “I’m not sure if it would be worse to go alone or with a stranger,” you added, laughing.

_“I understand. It’s up to you sweetheart, whatever you’re comfortable with.”_

Your lips pursed with a thought. An unlikely thought, one you felt certain would not see fruition. But if Din was instilling one thing in you, it was to be vocal about what you wanted.

“I don’t suppose...maybe...you could come with me? Maybe?”

The beat of silence was just long enough for you to notice, just short enough to prevent your mouth from spilling awkward. Why did he keep _doing_ that?

 _“Of course,”_ Din said easily. _“If that’s what you want...I’d be happy to go with you sweetheart.”_

You nodded enthusiastically to yourself. “Yes,” you confirmed. “I would like that. If you have time.” 

_“I do. When would you like to go?”_

You laughed. “How do you know you’ll have time if you don’t even know when we’re going?”

 _“Because anything else doesn’t matter,”_ he said firmly. _“You tell me when. That’s when we’ll go.”_

Stop smiling. Stop with the stupid bashful smile you’re not a schoolgirl _stop it-_

“Ok,” you whispered, quiet and sweet. “Um...maybe...tomorrow?”

 _“Tomorrow it is,”_ Din rumbled gently, spawning pleasant and unwelcome butterflies in your stomach. 

~

You weren’t sure what you were expecting when you asked Din to choose the store. 

He had to though. The only places you could think of were the second hand shops on your block. You knew he wouldn’t want you to go there. But where the hell do multi billionaires shop? 

Din clearly wasn’t expecting the question either, as he had to take a moment to think about it before finally pulling onto the speedway. You didn’t bother asking him where he decided, knowing you’d find out the details soon enough.

But now, you wished you had.

“Why _here_?” You questioned as he pulled into parking for a sleek looking boutique high on the city level. 

Din shrugged. “It’s the only place I could think of. I think this is where my assistant gets my suits.” 

“You have a personal shopper?” You teased. 

“ _Assistant,_ ” he clarified. 

“Ah yes, very different.”

He shook his head and you crinkled your nose playfully. 

The store was blindingly empty. Not just of shoppers, though they were nonexistent as well. The moment it’s sleek white doors swished open, you were struck by just how barren it looked. The floor was dotted with transparent cases housing single pieces of jewelry, the occasional article of clothing on a standing display. Between those sprinklings of artifacts was nothing but cold empty air on pristine white floors. Where was all the _stuff?_

In front stood a service desk, it’s tall form melding seamlessly with the surroundings. Behind it, a sharp young man looked up upon your entrance, his mouth falling open as he laid eyes on the two of you.

“Sir!” He gasped, instantly flustered. “Was there a problem with your order? Your assistant did inspect it before he left and assured me-“

Din raised a calming hand. “Everything was fine. We’re not here for me.” 

A flood of relief visibly smoothed his features. “Ah. Forgive me. It’s just, you haven’t been here in person in...years.” He laughed half heartedly in an attempt to calm himself. Then seemed to refocus, clasping his hands together with a flourish. “Well then, what _can_ I do for you sir?”

Din gestured to you. The shopkeeper turned, shiny eyes and silver earring flashing as he did.

“I need a dress,” you offered, raising your hand just below your shoulder as if to assure he saw you. 

The man lit up, the shine of his grin nearly matching the white of his store. “Absolutely! Right this way darling.” He held an arm out and stepped around the desk, gesturing for you to join him. With an uncertain glance at Din, who nodded encouragingly, you followed. His palm graced your elbow briefly as you walked beside him. 

“Welcome to Dichores sweet! I’m Cal.”

You smiled and told him your name in response. 

“Beautiful! You are going to be an absolute dream to dress, I can already tell.”

Though you knew the flattery was obligatory, you accepted it with a gracious smile, not even rolling your eyes a little. 

Cal led you swiftly through the store. Several dress displays had already passed you up, and you wondered where he was going. He kept straight forward, walking towards the back of the store without a pause. A glance over your shoulder told you Din was following, sorta. He stayed close but seemed unconcerned with keeping up, pausing to glance idly at random items in their cases. You scowled softly and wished he’d look up to see it. He was supposed to be coming _with_ you. 

“Uh, where are we going?” You asked Cal with an uncertain laugh, pointing as yet another dress went by. 

Cal gave you a dubious side eye. “Darling, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say The Mando is paying for this, no?”

You raised a brow. “Yeah…”

“Then I wouldn’t dare put you that shelf stock!” He cried definitively. “No no, I’ll put you in one of our designer pieces.” 

You shook your head with a soft eye roll. Cal finally led you into a smaller space cut out at the back of the shop, a wide and shallow room with a row of doors on one side and a wall of mirrors on the other. A high end version of your own fitting room, sans leaky corners and outdated tools. 

“Now!” Cal said with a clap. He gently took your shoulders and positioned you in front of the mirror, standing behind you and meeting your eyes in the reflection. You glanced over to find Din leaning against the threshold, watching. “I have a lovely Kernai that I think would be absolutely stunning, a Macwell, a Vercon, what are you thinking darling?”

He may as well have been speaking Huttese. “Whatever you think, you’re the expert.”

Cal grinned and stepped back without argument. “ _Well,_ don’t mind if I do.”

He turned for the back of the small room. You watched him tap on a data pad embedded in the wall. He scrolled through a long list of names and pictures of dresses before landing on his decision, tapping it. A tall, rectangular seam suddenly appeared in the wall next to him, sliding away to reveal the chosen dress. Your eyes stretched as he pulled it from its case. Dark blue, shimmery, utterly beautiful. 

“Care to give this one a try?” He offered. 

“Sure,” you said happily, accepting it from his hands. It was surprisingly light and airy. 

“Now sweet, all of our designer gowns have auto fit,” Cal explained, guiding your fingers to a few subtle touch pads woven among the fabric. “Just touch along here to get it right for you. I can help if you need it.” 

“Ok,” you acknowledged absently, watching the way the light reflected on the stunning material in your hand. You retreated to one of the fitting rooms to try it on. 

Once undressed, you slipped the long mess of fabric carefully over your head. The touch pads were easier said than done, and it took you a few moments to decipher their intricacies. After a handful of unsuccessful attempts, you finally managed to get the dress where it at least wouldn’t slide down your body. It still didn’t look quite right. 

Looking down at your discarded shoes, then at your bare feet, you tried to decide which would look more ridiculous, wearing your dirty old shoes in an expensive gown, or going barefoot in one. You decided to risk the latter. 

“Yeah, I need a hand,” you called to Cal with a laugh as you stepped from the fitting room. 

He turned from where he had been talking to Din, and immediately slapped his hand over his mouth. A muffled snort escaped through his fingers. “Oh darling,” he sniggered. “Come here, let me help you.” 

You hadn’t realized how ridiculous it looked until you were in front of the mirror. The dress hung on your frame like a sack, bunched at your hips and sagging at your shoulders. You and Cal giggled at your reflection together as he took up his position behind you. 

“No worries dear we’ll get you fixed right up,” he said, long fingers quickly searching out the touch pads. You felt him tug the material around up and around your body, guiding the fit sensors into place. A few expert taps later and it was fitting like a dream. Cal stepped back, steepled fingers to his lips as he examined you. 

“Kriffing gorgeous,” he praised. 

You smiled at him, did a little turn to see yourself fully in the mirror, then turned to Din. “What do you think?” 

He was still and blank as ever, but his voice was warm. “Beautiful.” 

“You like it then?”

He shrugged. “Doesn't matter what _I_ like. But I’ll love anything you choose sweetheart.”

You turned away with a disbelieving head shake. “Such a diplomat.” You heard him chuckle behind you. 

“Now darling I have countless more where that came from,” Cal was saying, already back at the data pad. “Don’t feel like you have to take my first suggestion unless you just really want to.” 

You hummed, doing another half turn as you looked at yourself. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to see...a few more.” 

Cal beamed. “My pleasure.” 

His fingers flew across the pad and the case in the wall shifted, disappearing upwards before another gown, this one silver, took its place. It was even more beautiful than the first, tiny jewels etching graceful patterns down the length of it. You took it with a grin and tried to hide the spring in your step as you went back to the fit room. 

You were about halfway into putting the second gown on when you realized- this was _fun._ Having all the time in the world to decide what you wanted? Having access to the _money_ for anything you wanted? Trying on dresses that until now you couldn’t even afford to look at?

Frivolous shopping had always been at the bottom of your priority list. When you had the time you didn’t have the money, and when you had the money you didn’t have the time. A quick in and out at a second hand store for essentials was the extent of your experience. But this? This was something else. 

You modeled two more dresses for Cal and Din, both of them providing equal praise to each. Their impartiality did little to help your decision. 

“Come on, you have to have some type of opinion,” you pestered Din.

He shrugged. “They all look perfect on you. Not sure what else to say sweetheart.”

You turned to Cal. “How about you?” 

He puckered his lips slightly and looked you up and down. “Well...I think the last one matched your eyes the best. They all flatter your figure excellently...but the one you have on now does exceptionally well. The first one framed your legs just perfect.”

Your shoulders fell as you gave him a long suffering look. “So any of them?”

Cal laughed. “Tell you what sweet,” he stepped to the data pad once again, “I might just have something that will give us the best of everything…” The cases in the wall turned and disappeared in rapid succession. Cal’s fingers danced in anticipation until it came to a stop, and he plucked his selection from the wall. “I think this is our winner. I can feel it,” he said with a wink as he handed it to you. 

You accepted it with an optimistic smile and once again retreated to a fitting room. As soon as the dress was on your body, you recognized the difference, and it made your cheeks burn. The others, while flattering and attractive, had all been relatively modest. Somewhat high on your chest, slit just past your knee. This one was a different story, with its plunging neckline and nearly nonexistent back. Your now experienced fingers found the touch pads, adjusted it to your body-

Ok, you were sexy. 

Damn, why had no one ever told you you were this sexy?

You quietly laughed at your own thoughts as you stepped out, in full view of the giant mirrors and your two “critics”. One of them beamed. The other stood up straighter, his lack of visible expression giving no other clue to his reaction. 

“Oh. My. Maker.” Cal quipped excitedly. “Darling you look like an absolute queen!” 

That made you laugh, and you turned to get a better view of yourself. There was no denying you looked good. You turned to Din.

“How about this one?”

His answer was snapped out surprisingly quick. “It’s fine.”

You paused, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. “You sure?” 

The others had all been ‘perfect’ or ‘beautiful’ or ‘lovely’. This one was…’fine’. 

“Yup,” Din popped. 

You stared at him. Something was off. His body language, the only means of reading him, had shifted. Arms crossed, stiff as a board as he looked at you. You wanted the dress. It felt good. Looked even better. But his hesitancy, unvoiced yet visible, made you pause. 

He didn’t ask you not to get it. Didn’t tell you he didn’t like it. That’s what made you turn back to Cal.

“I do love it…” you started slowly. “But...I’m not sure it's entirely appropriate for the event. Maybe the silver one?”

He pouted dramatically at your rejection. You laughed sympathetically. “I’m sorry. Maybe next time.” 

Cal drew breath for a dramatic acceptance, when Din interjected- 

“We’ll get them both.” 

You turned, mouth open in surprise. “Really? You sure?” He cocked his head and you smiled bashfully. “Right. Right. Of course you’re sure.”

Din nodded and Cal tapped his palms twice in enthusiasm. “Excellent! I’ll bag up the Vercon for you, and just hand me that one whenever you’re ready to change out of it sweet,” he said with a gesture up your body. He went back to the datapad and sent the cases spinning, searching for the silver Vercon. 

You gave Din one more appreciative smile before skipping back to the fitting room, feeling delighted and a little giddy and just... _spoiled._ Utterly spoiled. And loving every second of it. 

~

You thought you did an excellent job of not gasping or apologizing when you heard the total for your two dresses. _Two,_ just two. 10,500 credits. Roughly - you did some quick fire math in your head - three months of your rent. But you didn’t flinch. You stood right back and let Din pay for them, as you knew he wanted you to do. 

Even though you had your own chip - the exact same money from the exact same account - something told you Din would want to pay for it himself. You found you were correct when he promptly stepped forward, pulling out his chip and effectively blocking your path to the register, had you even attempted one in the first place. 

Now, as he walked you back to the speeder, your new clothes draped over his arm, you could hardly look away from him. Something about his actions over the past few minutes had you feeling...something. 

His obvious distaste at the revealing dress. His refusal to actually speak it, though you could see it written clearly on his body. Him buying it for you anyway. Silently insisting on being the one to complete the transaction. You couldn’t decipher the exact nature of what was gnawing the edge of your feelings. All you knew was your stomach was turning and heating and your eyes refused to get off him. 

Din was looking at you. You smiled softly. He cocked his head expectantly and you realized- _oh,_ he had something to you. He was waiting for a response.

“Huh?” You asked, flustered. 

Din chuckled. “I said would you like to drive?” 

Your face lit up, a tiny gasp falling from your lips. “O-on the speedway? With other drivers?” 

“Mhm.” He pulled a small control from his pocket and pressed a button. A few yards away his speeder lit up, doors popping open. 

You flashed him a nervous grin. “You really think I’m ready for that?”

A beat of hesitation preceded his answer and you frowned. 

“Yes,” he finally said, voice suspiciously firm. 

“Uhhh huh,” you quipped incredulously. Then, with a sickeningly sweet smile, “I believe I _will_ drive, thank you.” 

Din nodded graciously, gesturing to the driver seat. You plopped down with a happy little shimmy, leaning down to smile at him as you closed the door. He let out an amused breath and headed for the other side. 

Powered up, hands on the steer, Din in the passenger seat, you tapped the touchscreen to set it in reverse. 

“Good,” Din said warmly. “Now, nice and easy…”

Instead of annoying you like last time, his instruction made you flush, fighting a sheepish smile. You turned around to look out the back window, eyes scanning your path, foot poised over acceleration. The tip of your toe leaned forward, barely tapping it-

“Wait-” Din snapped, a split second too late. 

Your brain completed the command to _push_ just as the single word hit your ears, and the speeder lurched forward with a jump of power, crashing hard into the wall of the garage. 

Your body jolted against the belt across your chest. You faintly heard Din’s grunt among the screech of crumbling metal. The sudden harsh movement was over in a flash and your head snapped up, eyes the size of planets. In front of you, the twin engines of Din’s speeder were compressed like tin cans, crushed to half their length against the duracrete wall. 

You stared dead ahead, frozen as the mortification poured through your body. A gloved palm touched your shoulder but you didn’t move.

“Are you alright sweetheart?” Din asked gently. 

Your head didn’t turn, but your eyes slowly found him, brimming with tears as your face caught fire. He squeezed your shoulder gently.

“Hey,” he cooed, voice honey soft. “Don’t worry sweetheart...that wall had it coming.” 

And somehow a choked laugh made it through your sob. 


	6. What's Eating Mando

Quiet was a good thing.

You liked the quiet. It kept you company on slow nights at home. Helped settle the waves of your turbulent thoughts. Remained your savior in moments frustrating customers tested your patience. And _this_ quiet? This was definitely good. This quiet was safe, and peaceful, and meant you weren’t-

“Are you...going to try, sweetheart?”

_Shut the hell up you stupid bucket man._

The lash bit the tip of your tongue, spurned by a flare of temper. You smothered it down, opting for a deep frown instead. 

“Um. No, actually,” you said definitively, crossing your arms and leaning back in your seat. The steer of Din’s speeder stared icily at you, cold and mocking. 

Din sighed gently. It had taken every ounce of convincing power the Maker could bestow just to get you in the driver’s seat. He had foolishly hoped that’d be enough, and your adrenaline junky instincts would kick in the moment you were back in control. Clearly he was wrong. 

Making sure to keep his voice soft, not a hint of impatience, “Please? I told you, last time-”

“Was a disaster.”

“-was no big deal,” he finished firmly. 

“I literally-” your fists crushed the air in frustration as you whipped to face him, “ _Literally_ crashed into a wall! Do you not remember the squished mess this thing was?”

“And it was fixed the same day,” he pointed out, gesturing to the shiny new uncompressed state of the engines in front of you. The wide open space of an Xbac garage stretched out on all sides, not a wall in sight. He tilted his head. “I thought you said you wanted to try again?”

“Well I changed my mind, I don’t,” you snapped, crossing your arms. You had thought a week would be plenty of time to reclaim your nerve. You couldn’t have been more wrong. 

Din dropped his helmet with a defeated sigh. “Alright...that’s ok. We can go.”

Having expected further pressure from him, you looked up in surprise. His shoulders moved with a subtle shrug. It almost made you sad to see him give up on you, but not sad enough to press the issue a moment longer. Without a word, you threw the door open and hopped out. 

Back in the passenger seat, you kept your arms crossed and leaned against the widow, trying not to look at him, watching the garage swish by as he pulled out of it. 

“I guess just let me know whenever you’re ready to try again, ok sweetheart?” Din said carefully. 

First you nodded. Then, realizing he’d be watching the road, “Sure.” 

You heard him shift, and from the corner of your eye caught him glancing from the road, to you, and back again. “Hey…” he started gently. You didn’t look when you felt the hesitant brush of gloved fingers on your forearm. The ghostly touch was gone as soon as it arrived. “If I did something to make you feel worse about the whole thing...I’m sorry.” 

Immediately, you felt guilty. You were nervous now, yes, but it had nothing to do with him. All of it centered around your own self criticism and embarrassment. “You didn’t,” you assured, finally looking at him and reaching over to squeeze his hand briefly. “Not at all. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you did, I just…” your palm circled the air weakly before falling to your thigh. “It’s just me. Shook me up.” 

He nodded in understanding. “I’m sorry sweetheart. Take your time, alright?”

You nodded back, small and slow, staring at the floorboard. The tips of your toes tapped anxiously on the crisp rubber, hands folded in your lap. The speeder went quiet, but you could tell Din was still throwing the occasional glance at you. Thinking. Weighing. You couldn’t look up.

“Are you hungry?” He asked after a bit. 

Your tummy rumbled in answer, though thankfully it was a silent protest. A tight coil of anxiety had made breakfast an impossibility, fueled by regret of the driving lesson you had agreed to. 

“A little,” you admitted quietly. 

“We can get you something before I take you back, if you like?” 

A little war stirred your body as your stomach said yes, and your anxious heart said no. You knew he wasn’t mad, you just felt so _stupid_. The embarrassment lingered no matter how much reassurance he offered. You hadn’t been able to face him in person since it happened. Even now, each second in his presence was torture, heating your skin in the worst way, replaying the moment of terror over and over. 

At the long delay in your answer, Din softly cleared his throat. “That’s ok sweetheart, I’ll take you home.” 

He said it so kindly. So patient, and yet you could hear the lace of disappointment. Your heart cracked and you wanted to apologize, ask him to take you to lunch, tease and joke with him like you always did. But every time his visor met your eyes, you just felt another pang of humiliation. 

When he parked in front of your apartment, you forced yourself to meet his gaze, finding your positions reversed with the desire to comfort _him_. Assure him he wasn’t the reason you were so upset.

He spoke before you could think of anything to say, “If you don’t feel up to going tonight, that’s ok.” 

And for the first time since you’d been in his company, you smiled. Small, not quite reaching your eyes, but still a smile. “That’s ok, I want to.”

He watched you for a moment. Still and steady, gauging the truthfulness of your statement. Your features didn’t hold the energy to look convincing, but you meant it all the same. 

“Ok,” Din finally agreed. 

You gathered your purse from the floor. Reached for the door latch. Maybe in the remaining hours before you had to face him again, you could talk yourself down enough to behave halfway normal. 

“Sweetheart?”

You turned back to him, trying to pull a more genuine looking smile to your face. 

“You haven’t been using your card much,” Din observed quietly. 

Your face pinched in confusion. That came out of nowhere. “Yeah I do? I use it every day.”

He shook his head. “I mean on...things you want,” he explained, palms turning up. “You’ve just been getting cabs and food.”

Initially, your lips parted to ask if you weren’t supposed to do that. Hadn’t he specifically said he wanted you to take cabs instead of the tram? Buy things you needed? -and food was high on that list. Then your mouth popped shut with another thought, and you tilted your chin up inquisitively. “What, do you like...track my purchases or something?”

Din’s frame stiffened slightly, fingers curling tighter on the steer. “Well, no, not exactly…” 

You dropped your head and stared up at him through raised brows, incredulous. He sighed. “I don’t... _track_ them. I just get notifications of transactions on my account, even the ones I make.” 

A welcome surge of mischief creeped through your system, pleasantly clouding the linger of embarrassment. “Ahhh, mhm, suuure,” you droned, nodding with each word. You heard him give an exasperated scoff and relented with a smile. 

“I’m serious,” he continued, redirecting the conversation. “I would like you to use it more.” 

It wasn’t like you were intentionally avoiding it. Besides the fact you’d spent the past week distracted by self imposed agony, you simply tended to buy what presented itself as a need. Cabs to get to work. Food- splurging on restaurants, which Din apparently did not consider a splurge. Substrate for dying plants. If he hadn’t already bought you a comm, you imagined you may have done it yourself by now. 

Your needs, plus a little extra comfort, were being met, so...you just couldn’t _think_ of anything else. It wasn’t like you kept a big long list of all the things you passingly wanted but thought you’d never have the money for. 

Instead of using up the energy to explain all this to Din, you went for another jab, leaning into the seat with a smirk. “Careful hot shot, I may just take you up on that and spend all your money.” 

You laughed, but Din angled his head in a gesture you guessed to be a substitute for an eye roll. “Sweetheart...I don’t intend this as bragging, it's a simple fact when I tell you, you couldn’t spend all my money if you tried.” 

“Oh _really?_ ” You brought a hand to your chest and leaned back dramatically. “Challenge accepted.” 

With that you turned and popped the door open, making your exit with short and snappy movements. 

Din chuckled. “I’ll get you at 7?” He called after you. 

You whipped back around and leaned down to flash him a grin. “Sure. If you even have money to put fuel in your speeder by then.” And slammed the door shut on his half-uttered come back.

~

Ok. Spend money. You could do that. You could spend money. 

Your data pad stared blankly from its place on the counter top. Coruscant’s planet-wide holonet shop blinked slowly, waiting for you to enter a search. It would be easier if you could go out, wander around and pick up anything that struck your fancy, but you didn’t have time for that today. Din would be back at 7, and you still had to get ready. But you were determined to make good on your taunt. 

Each of your fingers tapped the worn down screen in slow succession as you looked around your apartment. Did you even need anything? No no- did you _want_ anything? 

New clothes would be nice, but most every day articles didn’t come with fancy autofit, so buying sight unseen felt like hassle waiting to happen. Maybe something for your apartment? 

The chipped paint on each of your planters beckoned for attention, as did your ugly slab of a window, the view you’d been intending to cover for ages. You perked up with this new direction and punched in a search. As a long list of cute new planters lined up down the screen, your comm lit up next to you. You smiled at Nya’s name and hit answer. 

“Hey,” you greeted.

_“Hellooo deary,”_ she sang. _“Just checking in, what are you up to?”_

The answer that immediately came to mind made you flush, lips drawing in with hesitancy. You said it anyway. “Ooh, just spending daddy’s money.” 

Nya bursted with a screeching sort of laugh. You brought a hand to your mouth to stifle your own. _“Ahhhhh yes baby girl that’s what I like to hear!”_ Your shoulders shook and you continued flipping through your planter options as you listened to her. _“Isn’t it wonderful? Tell me it’s wonderful! What has he bought you so far?”_

“It’s pretty great,” you agreed. “Let’s see...he just gave me a card to use, so he pretty much buys everything for me every day. He got me a new comm. Some nice dresses-”

_“Hang on,”_ Nya interjected. _“He gave you a card?”_

“Mhm!”

You heard her lips pop open. _“Wha? What’s your allowance?”_

You glanced at the speaking comm with furrowed brows. “Allowance?”

_“Yeah, does he give you like, so much for the week or…?”_

“Uhh…” You squinted in thought. Din hadn’t said anything about an ‘allowance’ or any kind of limits whatsoever. “No, I think it's just connected to his account. He never said I have a limit.” 

Nya scoffed, and the high pitched noise sounded both excited and indignant. _“Why you lucky little thing! Every daddy I ever had gave me an allowance!”_

“Maybe I’ll ask him if he has room for two,” you said jokingly. 

Nya giggled in delight. “Careful darling or I may just take you up on that.”

Both of you laughed. Nya then descended into a long train of chatter over each thing that happened since the last time you spoke to her. A whopping two days ago. You listened with patient hums and appropriate giggles, half listening to her story and half continuing your shopping. 

A whole new collection of planters and a nice set of curtains soon found a place in your queue. Your fingers skimmed idly across the screen as you considered what to add next. In doing so, your skin caught briefly on a thin crack that cut across the front of your pad. Pulling back with a wince, you eyed the defective screen while Nya detailed the _perfect_ brunch she had of crisp toast and rare Alderaan wine. 

Perhaps a new data pad was in order. 

Uttering an agreement that _yeah Nya that sounds really good,_ you tapped over to the holo device section. You flicked through the countless, shiny, _expensive_ options, trying to smother a terribly greedy-feeling smile at the thought that _you could seriously get whichever one you wanted_. There was no telling which one to pick, you stopped trying to keep up with the endless new models long ago. Instead of stressing over the decision, you picked one you liked the looks of, and who's price tag ensured a level of quality. And of course, you’d need a new stand for it...

Maybe a protective case for your new comm too while you were at it. Another one in your favorite color, with a nice pattern etched across the back. Both added to the queue. 

You didn’t fully remember the train of conversation that ended in Nya talking about a fish market, just as you didn’t remember the transition from device accessories to shoes, but you were looking at them now. They were easier to guess and more reliable than clothes. And those boots were _really_ cute. 

The site suggested a matching purse when you added the boots. Of course you needed the matching purse. 

_“Now keep in mind darling, I told my boy ages ago I don’t like fish-”_

“Right.”

_“And he still tried to buy that monstrosity for me! Just because some swindling merchant swore up and down it boosted metabolism!”_

“You’re kidding me!”

This thing really just trailed you from one item to the next. You didn’t even have to search for it when you found a new caf maker, way better than the crusty old thing currently sitting on your kitchen counter. 

_“No! And not only that-”_

Ear pods? Those would come in handy at work. Finally have something to drown out Lor’s whining. 

Gloves. Black and sleek and leather...winter was coming up in a few months. They almost matched Dins? 

A glass set. For the loads of company you hosted, ha. 

Cute necklace. 

New makeup brushes. 

_“Isn’t that the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard?”_

“Ugh, definitely. I’m sorry Nya but I just can’t believe him.”

_“Me either! Between you and me darling I think I might be looking to move on soon, yesterday in the market this dazzling older gentleman smiled at me and I-”_

7,000. How in the everloving hell had you managed to rack up a queue total of 7,000 credits? Of course the new data pad made up a large chunk of it, but still. You stared at your high stacked list and the bulging number at its bottom, mouth agape. Your finger hovered over the submit button. 

You were going to press it. Obviously. This was exactly what Din wanted you to do. You were just...taking it in. Letting the fact that you were about to spend what you made in a month in two seconds sink into your greedy, delighted little bones. 

You hit submit. 

_“And I know that wasn’t a coincidence. At least I’m pretty sure. What do you think darling?”_

“Doesn’t sound like a coincidence to me,” you assured Nya, watching the ‘thank you’ message pop up for your order. 

_“I knew it. Just knew it. Honestly I think the poor boy is better off without me. I know I’m definitely better off without him.”_

You smiled softly and turned your full attention back to the chattering comm on the counter top. As you marveled at the sheer capacity of both Nya’s lungs and attention span, a message popped up on your screen. You pulled the comm closer and felt your pulse pick up at the sight of Din’s name. For a moment it was trepidation, until you read his message and smiled.

_That’s more like it sweetheart._

~

These things were definitely designed for optimal viewing in their original habitat only. You could have swore the dress looked way different in the bright lights and sharp white backdrop of Dichores. In the natural tinted ambience of your small apartment, it just looked...flat. Not nearly as dazzling as the first time you saw it. You turned in the mirror, eyeing its delicate jewel patterns with a critical eye. 

Oh well. It was too late to try anything different now. Besides, maybe it would look better outside. You retouched the autofit a few times, cinching up all the edges where you wanted them. A glance at the comm told you Din would be there any minute. You did a final rundown of your appearance- trying not to obsess over it, still wanting to look nice for him. For yourself. 

The fluttering in your stomach and thin sweat on your palms had you drawing comparisons to pre-date jitters. You wondered what your relationship would have been like if he had simply asked you out on that first call, and was picking you up for a real date instead of a...whatever this was. 

There were surprisingly few differences you could think of. You’d probably be going somewhere private, rather than a business dinner. Maybe he’d touch you a little more often. You definitely wouldn’t have just spent 7,000 of his credits on random things. 

You had no complaints about how things turned out. 

A ping from your comm alerted you to Din’s arrival. You pulled on a sweater- which barely matched your gown, but it was chilly and you definitely weren’t suffering for its sake- and left to meet him downstairs. 

He was leaning against the speeder as he waited for you, hands in pockets of course, recalling a similar view of him as you’d sped away inside the Skytram. He stood up straight as you approached. You smiled at a familiar silver trimmed pocket, this time complete with waistcoat. 

“Hello,” he said in that rich timbre.

“Hey.”

Shiny black dress shoes crossed half a step to meet you. His helmet tilted as he looked you over. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you said with half a smile, glancing down as though to reassess yourself from this new perspective. Din opened the passenger door and held it for you as you climbed in. _Like a real date,_ you thought to yourself with a silly little smile. 

You liked to watch Din’s hands when he drove. Fitted leather gripping the cool surface of the steer, the way his fingers and palms flexed with subtle movements. If this were a real date, you wondered if you’d be able to convince him to slip the gloves off. Let you see the skin of his hands for the first time. Maybe touch it with your own. You imagined the veins on the backs of his hands, rough golden skin on broad knuckles. 

“Sweetheart…” Din said, interrupting your delightful little fantasy. “There’s something I wanted to mention before we get there.” You nodded encouragingly, giving him your attention. Din glanced at you once, then continued, “You may sort of know this already, but I don’t really...use my name with many people.” 

You had, in fact, had a sort of inkling about it. His hesitancy to provide it to you when you first asked, plus everyone calling him “Mando” gave you a rough idea. You nodded to him in confirmation. 

“Well, that goes for these people as well,” he explained, gesturing with his fingers as though they were right in front of you. “They don’t know my name, so I’d appreciate it if you don’t use it in front of them.” 

“Sure,” you said with a nod. You didn’t ask him to elaborate on the reasons. You didn’t need to. His quiet, private nature told you enough. When you were someone _everyone_ wanted to know about, you kept as much under wraps as you could. 

The rest of the drive passed in easy silence as you watched the colors of the city whir by. Din had to take several exits to rise from the crowded mid level location of your place, to the open aired, high level speedway. You leaned your head against the window as the speeder climbed up, up, watching dark and gritty fade into shiny and new. 

Dusk was fast approaching by the time Din brought the speeder down on a landing platform. You watched its smooth metal surface grow closer until there was a soft _thud._ Looking up, you saw your destination for the evening. A penthouse on the very top of whatever building this was, nothing but open sky above it. Two people stood at the mouth of the bridge that connected the house to the landing pad, watching the speeder with welcoming smiles. 

You turned to Din. He was already looking at you. “You alright?” He asked gently. 

You tried to perk up, thinking you must have been looking miserable if he was concerned. “Yeah, definitely.” 

He studied you a moment longer, then gave the slightest nod before getting out of the speeder. You turned and followed suit. Drawing your sweater tighter around your frame, you looked out over the endless cityscape, jagged skyline framed by dull blue in the waning sunlight. You’d never been this high before. 

The two people were crossing the pad to meet you. You reluctantly drew your gaze from the city to greet them. One was a man, tall and broad despite the age his salt and pepper hair revealed. The other was a woman, her lithe frame an almost comical contrast to her companion, hair falling long and silver on her thin shoulders. 

You gave them a smile and awkward little wave, hoping Din would hurry up and come around before you had to talk to them by yourself. Sure enough, he was at your side in a moment, warm and comforting as he took your hand and led you to meet your hosts. 

“Welcome sir,” the man greeted, offering a handshake that Din accepted. The wind was strong this high up, nearly carrying his voice away. “Thank you so much for joining us this evening.” Din nodded in acknowledgement. The man continued, “I don’t believe you’ve met my sister yet,” he placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder, “This is Trin.” 

Trin flashed both of you a dazzling smile, pushing a strand of silver hair behind her ear. “Nice to meet you sir.” Then, looking to you, “And?”

Your mouth opened to introduce yourself, but Din beat you to it, offering them your name as his hand squeezed your own. A bit of annoyance pricked you briefly, but you ignored it. The man brightened further at your introduction. 

“Welcome. I’m Eli. We’re so pleased to have you both here.”

When Din didn’t respond to their gracious welcome, you tossed him a subtle side eye and answered, “Thank you.” 

Trin and Eli led you across the bridge toward their penthouse. You watched their contrasting forms with interest. Both of them were quite tall and well built, with dark skin and perfect matching smiles. Definitely siblings. He moved subtle and soft for someone who took up so much room, whereas she stepped with an air of power. You weren’t entirely sure why, but you liked both of them immediately. 

Trin spoke as a large door opened to admit you to the house, “I hope it's alright if my son joins our talks this evening,” she said to Din. “He’s interested in starting a charity of his own and would like to start learning.”

You recalled Din telling you the purpose of this meeting. _Business talks, owners of a charity upstart want my investment._ To you, it looked as though these people could start just about anything they wanted. But of course, you didn’t really know how things worked in rich-people world. 

“No problem,” Din answered. 

She nodded her thanks and led you into the house. The place was surprisingly cozy, not at all the immense slap of space you had expected. A snug little sitting area greeted you, sleek and modern in appearance, but welcoming all the same. Aside from the door behind you and one on the opposite side leading to the rest of the penthouse, massive rounded windows surrounded you on all sides. 

As Eli and Trin led you down a short set of stairs to the sitting area, the door across the room slid open. A man nearly as tall as the other two stepped out, crossing the space with a familiar perfect smile. 

“This is my son Will,” Trin introduced him. 

Din nodded a greeting and accepted the handshake Will offered. “Pleased to meet you sir,” the young man said fervently. “Thank you for allowing me to join you today.” 

Din said nothing, and Will turned to you next. When his eyes settled on your face, you quickly noticed something odd about his features. His face was narrow, eyes and jaw sharp to an unusual degree. His skin was dark like his mother’s, but held an unmistakable tint of green around the edges, manifesting in a slight shine around his ears, temples, wrists. The uniqueness made him handsome, and you concluded his father must be something other than human. 

“And hello to you as well,” Will was saying as he took your hand. His skin was cold. “Miss?” 

You gave him your name, smiling politely. He didn’t shake, instead bringing your knuckles briefly to his lips as his slim eyes stayed on yours. You raised a brow and giggled slightly at the unusual gesture. “May I just say you are quite stunning,” he flattered, slowly releasing your hand. 

Before you could respond, Trin lightly patted his arm with a scoff. “Please forgive my son, he’s a terrible charmer.” 

You dismissed the apology with a smile and gentle shrug, unsure what to say. Din was still holding your free hand and you felt him slip his fingers through your own. 

Settling on a couch next to Din, Eli and Trin took a place across from you, Will in a chair at the end of the short table. “Would you like some wine?” Trin asked. She was tapping something on the table, and you noticed a screen on its surface, evidently doubling as a command module. 

“Sure, thank you,” you answered. Of course, she offered nothing to Din. 

A service droid appeared moments later, four wine glasses on a tray in one hand, a large plate of horderves on the other, all of it balanced perfectly on its artificial limbs. It set the food in the center of the table and handed glasses out to the four partakers. 

The droid shuffled away and you took a sip of your wine, enjoying its sweet flavor. Will snatched up one of the horderves. You were glad he did. You were still starving, and even though the gray, slightly spongy looking pieces weren’t entirely appetizing, they were something. Still, no amount of hunger would have drove you to be the first to take one. 

After a few sips of wine and a handful of small talk, Eli spoke, “Well, I know you’re a straight to business sort of fellow, so we’ll get started.” 

Din gave them his attention while Trin tapped on the command module, bringing up a long holograph consisting of text, pictures, and graphs. “Eli tells me he’s already been over our short term goals with you,” she said. Din nodded. “What we’d like to show you today is our long term plan, and the extent to which we’ll be able to help each youngling who qualifies for our program. Now-”

You gave the conversation your all for about ten seconds, trying to pay attention. While your only real purpose for the evening was to be next to Din, you still didn’t want to look like a complete airhead. 

But you were hungry. And the wine was good and the couch was comfortable and the words of your hosts were strung in just the right way to be on the edges of your comprehension. It didn’t take long for you to tune out. This was going to be a long evening. 

You recalled Din referring to the event as a “dinner”, and it occurred to you that the current arrangement didn’t exactly qualify as such. Given they had already dove into their talks for the evening, _this_ was apparently the main event. Snacks and wine could hardly be described as a meal, especially not in your state. 

_Small_ was certainly accurate though. You hadn’t held many expectations for the evening, flying blind into this new experience, but a group larger than five and food beyond tiny morsels had been among them. 

As you took one of the horderves, catching a snippet of their conversation regarding ‘fixed sum’ and ‘far reaching outcome’, it occurred to you this arrangement was actually considerate of them. While _you_ knew Din wouldn’t have felt awkward being the only one not eating at a meal table, they likely didn’t, so the casualness of drinks and food in a sitting room spoke of thoughtfulness on their part. 

The little observation made you like them even more. You hoped Din would agree to sponsor their charity. It sounded like it was for younglings, so surely he would have no reason not to. 

You popped the horderve in your mouth, bit into it’s soft outer layer, and immediately had to contain a grimace. It was disgusting. Sour and a little gritty. You couldn’t recognize a single flavor other than _ew_. For the first time you felt jealous of Din, who didn’t have to try one even for politeness. 

Will clearly didn’t share the sentiment, as he reached for a second as you struggled to swallow your first. In your peripheral, you noticed him angle his body toward you as he resettled in his seat. Fighting with the last bit of horderve, you glanced his way. He smiled when you made eye contact, then spoke to you, voice low enough to not interrupt Eli and Trin, “So, what do you do?” 

You paused as you struggled down the ick in your mouth. At your delay, Will added, “Do you work?” With a quick glance at Din. 

You were a bit offended. Granted, it may have been an overall fair question, considering you were a random, well dressed, slightly clueless woman on the arm of the richest man on the planet. Still, you didn’t appreciate the assumption. 

“I do,” you answered proudly, cursed horderve finally banished down your throat. “I’m a tailor.” 

Will’s head cocked with interest, light hitting the green shine at his temples. “Ah, nice. Are you at a shop or have a private practice?” 

You almost laughed. The thought of owning your own practice was absurdly out of this world. “At a shop.”

Eli was showing Din a holopic of a classroom. You caught something about foreign language tutoring before Will was speaking again, reclaiming your attention. “Oh which shop? I frequent many in the area, I may know it.” 

Shouldn’t he be paying attention? His mother had said he wanted to listen, planning to start his own charity. “I doubt it,” you assured him casually. “It’s…” you paused, unsure how to say ‘mid-level shab shack’ in a nice way. “It’s pretty small. Not a very big clientele.” 

Will opened his mouth to speak again, but your eyes had flitted to Din, a question suddenly popping into your mind. Prompted into existence for the first time by your own words. 

Mid-level shab shack. You worked at a mid-level shab shack. The place where you ran into him for a second time, and he said he was looking for a suit. Now you knew that Din got his clothes at Dichores, a high end custom boutique. 

What was he _doing_ at Crix that day? Had he truly randomly decided to pop into a grimy little store and go shopping? You couldn’t imagine what the alternative was, but the coincidence was too mind boggling not to question. You made a mental note to ask him later and turned back to Will, who’s question you’d entirely missed. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” 

He chuckled good humoredly. “I was just saying I’ve been to many a small shop, I’d almost guarantee I know it if you tell me.” 

You knew for a fact he didn’t, as you were well acquainted with every frequent customer at Crix. His insistence rubbed you the wrong way. “Oh I’m very sure you wouldn’t,” you said casually. Then before he could insist further, “What about you, your mother said you’re planning to start a charity of your own?” 

His lips pressed together at your effective topic change. You smiled sweetly in expectation. “Of sorts,” he relented. “Might start up something for med centers in low population areas, things like that. Charity is sort of the family tradition.” His tone was strikingly flat. 

“That’s a good tradition to have,” you commended. Then slowly turned back to Trin and Eli, pretending to listen and hoping to bring your conversation with the odd Will to an end. 

The young half-human was evidently inept at taking hints as he continued, “So what kind of tailoring work do you do?” Leaning forward slightly to assure he recaptured your attention. You turned back patiently. “Just alterations and such? Or do you have a specialty?” 

Charmer indeed. More like chatterer. He wasn’t annoying you persay, he was just a bit...intense. From the corner of your eye you saw Din glance briefly at you, then Will, before turning back to Trin. “Mostly alterations,” you confirmed. “Full customs on occasion.” 

“Indeed?” His tone went up with an interest you couldn’t place as genuine or feigned. You decided to hope for the former, and nodded happily. 

“Mhm!” You jerked your head softly toward Din. “I actually made the one he’s wearing.” 

Will smiled brightly and surveyed Din’s attire. “Is that so? I was actually planning to ask him where he got it.” You couldn’t help but flush at the flattery, despite your suspicion it was performative. Will leaned to the side in his chair, propping his elbow on the arm rest and bringing his body just a few inches closer to yours. “Is that how you two met?” He wagged a finger between you both. 

Your lips parted in hesitation. You definitely weren’t going to dive fully into _that_ story. “Pretty much, yeah.” 

“Ahh,” Will rubbed his chin thoughtfully. You didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered quickly down your body, lingering on your crossed legs. You resisted the temptation to roll your eyes and frown at him. “Well if buying a suit earns your company, I may just need to pay your shop a visit,” he said smoothly, voice dropping an octave. 

_Oh_ the eye roll begged to be let out. You held it firmly at bay, trying for a patient smile instead. “Oh come on-” you started, trying to sound light hearted and teasing. 

You were stopped by the feeling of something warm and heavy settling on your knee. Looking down, you found Din’s hand there, his palm resting on the exposed skin, his fingers curling gently against the inside of your leg. You looked at him, eyes stretched in mild surprise. Din’s visor was fixed squarely on Will, who didn’t seem to notice, still watching you for a response to his little remark. Eli and Trin appeared oblivious to the interesting little situation as well, still taking turns relaying the goals and benefits of their infant organization. 

The last breath you’d taken was frozen in your airway, heavy as you stared at Din. Sensing your gaze, he finally looked to you, and while his grip lightened, his hand stayed put. You felt him hover a nearly imperceptible measure off your skin; hesitant, a belated request for permission. After a quick internal debate- in which you balanced being a little annoyed at the unprompted action but also slightly, undeniably, turned on- you gave him a soft smile to grant it. 

Immediately, Din’s fingers curled back against your leg and he returned his attention to your hosts. Will had at least somewhat picked up on the message, now leaning back in his chair, crowding less of your space. You forgot what you were planning to say to him, so you said nothing. 

“Just imagine the opportunities kids will have,” Eli was saying excitedly, gesturing to a list of classes and programs. “They’ll learn more in school, plus have access to activities outside school that will prepare them for life.”

Din nodded slowly in agreement, his index finger tapping lazily against your leg, thinking. As Trin took her turn detailing a few highlighted classes, the droid reappeared with four new glasses of wine. It gathered up the empty ones, including yours, despite it being half full. You drew a partial breath to refuse the new glass, but the droid had already set it in front of you and moved on to Will.

Trin asked Din for his thoughts so far, whether he had any questions. His finger tapped your leg a few more times. Your heart was a stone inside your chest. 

“It seems as though your primary focus is the core worlds?” Din asked. Trin and Eli nodded in confirmation. “Why is that?”

The siblings exchanged a quick glance. “Well...this is home,” Eli offered. “Feels right to start in the place you’ll see the most benefit.”

Din hummed. A telling pause filled the air before he continued, “Perhaps. Though I wonder about the real purpose of those benefits.”

Trin’s brow furrowed. Even you looked to Din a little curiously. A brief glance at Will found him preoccupied with his second wine. “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Trin said. 

Din swiped the holo to bring up a graph you recalled seeing earlier, his hand leaving your knee as he did so. “Your entire goal seems to be enriching the lives of those who are already prosperous,” he clarified. “I don’t deny younglings in the core have problems, but the poverty and starvation rate has been at zero for decades. Why pour money where it isn’t really needed, when you could put it toward a child who doesn’t know where their next meal is coming from?” 

You blinked in surprise. Even though you hadn’t been paying enough attention to understand the details of their conversation, it sounded as though he had a valid point. Eli and Trin shared a panicked glance before quickly flattening back into composure. 

“I hear you,” Eli said fervently. “We’re not at all opposed to expanding our reach.” He looked to Trin with an outstretched hand and she nodded in agreement. 

“We’re just not as familiar with issues facing youth in the outer rim,” she said. “Maybe you can tell us more about the direction you’d like to see us take?” 

You didn’t miss the subtle way she spoke as though he was already a sponsor. Neither did Din, though he swiped back to the beginning of their presentation without a word. “Well for one, there’s issues without about a quarter of the after school programs you’re proposing.” 

“Such as?” Eli quipped, the slightest hint of offense in his tone. 

“Similar variants are readily available and in low demand,” Din said bluntly. 

You quietly enjoyed the baffled look the siblings exchanged. They clearly hadn’t expected an investor who knew what he was talking about. 

Neither had you, to be honest. The bits and pieces you caught of their proposal all sounded fine and dandy. You hadn’t caught a single reason Din wouldn’t want to sponsor some language classes and sports programs for low level kids. His rebuttal was as intriguing as it was surprising, and you were now giving the discussion your full attention, watching with curious eyes as he reexamined their entire presentation with them. 

Two sets of dark eyes stayed fixed on the holo they had worked so hard to put together, now being gently pieced apart by the man who was supposed to make it a reality. Their faces began to shift with each word from his mouth, starting from irritation, slowly melting into interest, and finally acceptance. 

“Will,” Trin said absently, still watching the holo, “Are you listening?”

Will teetered an empty wine glass in his fingers. “Yeah mom.” His eyes flicked to the holo for barely a heartbeat, narrowing. He then promptly rose and walked out the inner door. Trin either didn’t notice or didn’t care enough to argue. 

Din’s hands spread to stretch the holo wide, doubling a projected route of medical supply. 

“Hang on,” Eli interjected calmly, “We don’t have access to infrastructure for that level of transport.” 

“I do,” Din answered simply. “With my sponsorship would come the necessary resources to see it through.” 

The siblings exchanged another look, this one excited and hopeful. You couldn’t decide what you wanted to watch more, Din, or the fast paced replanning he was spinning at his fingertips. He tapped through another few slides. “Now, as far as the inner rim schools go-”

“Hey mom!” Will’s voice interrupted, cutting across the room. You turned on the couch to see his upper body hanging out the door, fresh glass of wine in hand. Eli and Trin looked up. 

“Yes?” Trin sighed, clearly annoyed at the interruption. 

Will gestured behind him, wine sloshing in his precarious hold. “That Olsen guy just showed up.”

You turned back around to see Trin watching her son with a confused grimace. Din hadn’t even turned, hands resting on his knees as he waited patiently. “He wasn’t supposed to come until tomorrow,” she answered. 

Will shrugged. “I know, but he’s here now. Want me to bring him in?” 

Trin glanced at Eli, who gave a subtle shake of his head. “No,” she said. “Just ask him to keep our previous appointment.” 

“I tried,” Will insisted. “He kept saying he needs to speak to you now, says it's important.” 

Trin sighed and once again looked at Eli, who shrugged helplessly. Then she turned to Din. “Forgive me,” she said apologetically, rising from the couch. 

“No problem,” Din reassured her. He leaned back, stretching an arm behind your shoulders, settling in to wait. He never touched you, but the closeness made your pulse skip all the same. 

As Trin stepped around on her way to the door, Will suddenly grunted. The sound of short and hurried steps echoed off the room's giant windows. Turning to look over Din’s arm, you saw a new man had entered the room. Rather abruptly, if Will clutching his glass like a vice and glaring daggers at the newcomer revealed anything. 

“Trin, I’m so sorry,” the man sputtered. He looked disheveled, blond hair a rumpled mess atop his head, dirty and wrinkled clothes a stark contrast to the elegance of his company. Trin was approaching him with crossed arms. 

As the stranger spoke, Din turned around for the first time, craning to look over his own shoulder, his chest drawing much closer to you. Wild blue eyes met slim black visor, and both men froze. 

“Mr. Olsen,” Trin started, “Now isn’t the best time. I’d rather we kept our appointment for tomorrow.”

Not one inch of Din’s body was touching you, but you could feel his energy shift. His free hand snapped to his side, fingertips disappearing beneath his suit jacket before his movements seemed to stutter and he backtracked, setting his hand firmly on his leg instead. You looked between him, to Olsen, and back again. 

The man’s eyes stayed riveted on the Mandalorian a few feet away. “I..I...” He stuttered, attempting to address Trin.

Noticing the path of his gaze, Trin stepped into his line of sight, effectively blocking her relatively famous and easily-recognizable guest from view. You would have appreciated the gesture, had you not been so fixated on Din’s own reaction to the man. “Mr. Olsen?” She quipped firmly, frustrated. 

He finally snapped to attention, looking at the woman addressing him as his throat bobbed with a visible swallow. “Yes. Yes you’re right, I’m so sorry.” He took a step back. 

She nodded appreciatively. “That’s quite alright. I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow.” 

“Yes, tomorrow.” He took step after step toward the door, eyes flitting around the room, now sternly avoiding the one he couldn’t look away from moments ago. 

“Try not to shove anyone through doors next time, yeah?” Will tossed in a grumble. Olsen didn’t respond, just gave Trin a nervous smile and a departing nod before slipping from the room. 

Odd silence tainted the air as she turned back to her guests. Din’s arm abandoned the space behind your shoulders and he reached into his pocket, pulling out his private comm. 

“Sorry about that,” Trin said as she resumed her place across from you. 

“Quite alright,” Din answered, not looking up as his thumbs tapped rapidly on the comm. 

Eli gave Trin a withering look as he spoke, “I’m afraid my sister has a track record of being overly accommodating to members of her assistance program,” gesturing to the now vacant doorway, “Hence they occasionally get a little presumptuous.” 

She flashed him a look of annoyance. Din finished typing and put his comm away. “What program is that?” He asked lightly. 

“Transport assistance,” Trin said. “Providing them passage off world in exchange for a brief stint of work at our durasteel factory.” 

Din hummed in response. You watched his fingers thrum against the armrest of the couch. Eli promptly waved the issue aside, retrieving the holo. “Anyway, back to what you were saying-”

You felt Din’s comm buzz in his pocket. He immediately retrieved it, pausing to stare at the screen briefly before his thumbs went to work. Eli’s mouth turned down at the corners. 

You were debating whether it was within your place to gently poke him, make him aware of his lapse in manners, when Will’s voice once again hit your ears in a harsh whisper, “So where was it you worked again?”

His body was angled back toward you, knees pushed into the limited personal space their snug sitting room allowed. You raised a brow at the freshly drained wine glass in his hand. 

Din finally put his comm away and resumed their talks, picking up on the issue of low privilege schools in the inner rim. “Suit shop,” you answered Will briefly, turning your back and hoping to shut down further conversation. 

“I got _that,_ ” he huffed. “What shop?” 

Impatience stirred a scowl on your face, and you readied a quip on the edge of your tongue, thoroughly tired of his pestering. Before you could deliver it however, two separate hands performing two separate actions came to your rescue. Trin’s, subtly and quickly whipping out to flick her son on the side of the leg, and Din’s, bringing his palm back to your knee. Neither of them spoke a word or even looked away from the holo in front of them, but both were successful. Will shut up. 

Relieved, you tried to refocus on the conversation you hadn’t expected to be interested in. Trin had taken the reins, walking through a potential process of implementing Din’s new direction with the original concept of their plan. 

His comm buzzed again. Again, he immediately retrieved it, pulling a mutual frown from the siblings. 

You watched with growing awkwardness as Din’s visor glued to his comm, the room falling silent aside from his tapping. Trin and Eli stared carefully at him, then glanced at each other. You _really_ wanted to poke him. 

Suddenly, Eli clapped his hands together. “Tell you what, I feel like a little break,” he announced, voice boisterous. 

Trin perked up and nodded her agreement. “Good idea.” 

He looked to Din. “What do you say we table this for a moment?” Din didn’t look up. Eli pressed on, “This building has a lovely sky walk, we can usually see the upper city light show from it.” 

When Din still didn’t look up or even acknowledge him, you couldn’t stay quiet. “That sounds lovely,” you answered Eli. You reached over to squeeze Din’s leg, much harder than he had yours. His head finally snapped up, looking first to you, then at the confused and impatient Eli. 

He slipped his comm away. “Actually I’m afraid we need to be going,” he said curtly. 

Trin and Eli looked immediately crestfallen, shared features crumpling in disappointment. “So soon?” She pressed. “We were looking forward to hearing more about this new direction you had in mind-”

“Yes,” Eli agreed, “We- we’ve hardly started, if you could-”

“Apologies,” Din cut him off, “But we need to go.” He took your hand, rising from the couch, attempting to pull you with him. You stayed put however, looking up at him with a frown. 

You were incredibly annoyed with him. These people may have been after his money - technically so were you - but they were after it for a worthy purpose. They had accepted his criticism with striking humility, and other than the flirtatious and slightly inappropriate Will, they seemed like good people. Your “place” be damned, you weren’t about to let Din brush them off like this. 

“Surely we have just a few minutes,” you insisted, seated stubborn and unmoving on the couch. 

Din looked down at you, helmet tilting slightly. “Sweetheart,” he said quietly, “We really-”

“I quite liked the sound of that sky walk,” you added, tossing the slightest pout into your expression. Its affect manifested in the sudden rigidity of his shoulders, the gentle squeeze he gave your hand. 

Turning to Eli, his sigh was just beneath discernible. “Ok. We have a few minutes.” 

The siblings rose in unison, bright smiles returning. “Excellent, thank you,” Eli gushed.

As she smiled appreciatively at you, Trin reached over and firmly tapped Will, who had occupied himself with a prolonged stare out the nearest window. “Come on,” she grumbled under her breath. He frowned at her before reluctantly rising. 

You followed the group into the adjoining room, a shiny little kitchen where the service droid was puttering about. Eli led everyone toward a large, clear door at the back. You took the opportunity to tap lightly at Trin’s arm, needing to voice the question that had been heavy in your mind since finishing your wine. 

“Could I use your fresher?” You asked quietly.

She smiled warmly and nodded, taking your arm to lead you to a hallway off to the side. “Right down here, second door on the left,” she pointed. “We’ll wait for you on the bridge outside.” 

“Thank you,” you said gratefully, and followed her direction down the hall. 

You were actually stunned you managed to hold it for as long as you did. Then again, awkwardness and an acute fear of chiming in proved to be an effective suppressant. You had nearly forgotten the pressing need until you were forced to stand up. 

Your dress was a challenge to navigate, feeling like you could shatter the delicate jewels just from crumbling it too much. You bunched and folded the delicate fabric carefully, cringing with each scrape of jewel on cloth. 

Tragedy averted, relief gained, you leaned over the sink, staring into the mirror as you washed your hands. The evening had shaped up to be...odd, to say the least. Will’s incessant babbling certainly made him a highlight, but it was Din’s pointed reaction to a complete stranger that truly had you curious. You doubted the others had noticed, the only reason you did was because you were right next to him, able to feel the tension rolling off his frame. 

You added that to your checklist of things to ask him once you were alone. _Why were you randomly at Crix that day, and also why did you seem so bothered by that man?_ Ha, he’ll love that. 

Drying your hands, you smoothed your dress down for a final time, ensuring its delicate form was properly in place. When the door swished open, you were startled to see Will there. He was leaning against the wall across from the door, staring straight at you. Almost as if if he’d been watching the exact spot where he knew your eyes would be. Yet another half empty glass of wine graced his fingers. 

“Hello there, “ he greeted, voice low. 

You tried a polite smile and walked past him, hoping his sudden and intense presence was nothing more than him waiting for a turn in the fresher. Your twisting gut told you otherwise. 

Unsurprisingly, but no less terrifying, he blocked your way down the hall, tall body taking up every bit of space in front of you. You took a step back, eyes wide. 

“So what’s the deal with you and the Mando?” He asked, pushing his chest out and crowding around you. 

“Excuse me?” You quipped back, trying to keep your voice level and jaw firm. 

Will gestured dumbly with the glass in his hand. “Are you together together? Are you just his little arm piece? Sleeping with him?”

You scowled deeply, trying to combat the nervous thump of your heart. “This is highly inappropriate,” you snapped. Glancing behind him, you hoped for some promise of help. There was none, just a vacant white hallway. 

Ignoring you, Will pressed forward. “I guess what I’m saying is, are you up for grabs sweetheart?” 

Your stomach nearly vacated your body right then and there. Everything in your chest curled up tight and fast and painful. Why didn’t Din have to use the fresher?

“No,” you said simply. Hoping for sternly. 

Will laughed, an empty smile and puff of breath from between his perfect teeth. “Is that so?” He moved in closer. You tried to take a quick step back and he matched you with his advances. His sharp eyes darkened. “I’m not accustomed to being told no sweetheart.” 

Maker, you wanted to retch. “ _Stop,_ ” you snapped, sounding borderline desperate now. 

“Stop what?” He taunted. “I’m not hurting you.” He reeked of wine. Every inch of space you gained, he filled. 

Your lungs sucked in a single panicked breath. You wanted to yell. _Begged_ yourself to yell. But your chest held fast to the final breath it had attained, stuck in your airway like a block of duracrete. You wanted to try dodging around him, but were too afraid he’d grab you. 

_Call for Din. He’s barely a few feet away. Yell._

“You gonna answer me? Hm?”

_Yell._ Your throat couldn’t summon so much as a word at normal volume, fear constricting tight around every muscle. 

“I’m not touching you am I? I can’t ask you a question?”

_Please yell come on just call for Din, yell yell-_

“Come on sweetheart-”

_Yell!_

“Aggh!” 

A choked sound ripped from Will’s throat as he was pulled backwards by the shoulder. The instant his looming presence was gone you stumbled back, wide eyes settling in relief at the sight of Din holding fast to a very angry Will. His half drunk wine splashed across his white dress shirt. 

“Ah- what the hell?” Will spat, twisting around. Din stepped between you and shoved him back with a firm hand to his chest, right into the shocked gazes of his mother and uncle at the end of the hall. 

The next thing you knew, two gloved palms were soft on your cheeks. You looked up into a slim spanse of black, and it was somehow more comforting than the softest eyes in the world. “Are you ok?” Din asked urgently. “Did he hurt you?” 

You slowly shook your head, numb. “I-”

“Will!” Trin’s shrill voice cut down the hall. The man in question slowly righted himself, vainly swiping at his shirt as he faced his mother. She closed in on him, grabbing his arm as her voice reduced to a sharp whisper, “What happened? You promised me-”

“I dunno!” Will snapped, flinging a hand in your direction. “She just...I didn’t...I dunno! The Mando just grabbed me!” 

Trin and Eli both looked at you, teary eyed and breathless, with Din softly stroking your cheeks. They exchanged a distressed look, then turned back to Will.

“Go,” Trin said, low and stern.

“But I-”

“Go!”

Will sneered, throwing his hands up and shoving past them. Sharp and heavy steps faded until he was gone. Din slipped his hand into yours, and with a last comforting stroke of his thumb across your cheek, pulled you gently down the hall. 

“We are leaving,” he quipped as you passed Eli and Trin. They nodded without argument. 

The walk to the speeder was a blur as you focused solely on the feeling of Din’s hand in yours and the urgency to be out of this place. Any thoughts of being annoyed at Din or trying to stay longer for the sake of the generous siblings were long gone. 

Night air was brisk on your skin as you walked across the bridge, city lights smearing through the threat of your tears. The view should have been even more captivating at night, but you couldn’t bring yourself to enjoy it. 

Din settled you in the passenger seat, peering gently at you, knuckles brushing your jaw one last time before he softly closed the door. You didn’t notice Trin had been following until you heard her voice, muffled outside the speeder as she addressed Din. 

“I’m so sorry. I can never apologize enough.” 

“Not your fault,” Din said gruffly, no attempt to hide his anger. 

“Is there anything I can do to-”

“No.” 

There was a subdued hum, a mumbled goodbye, followed by the faint scrape of heels on metal. She had the good taste not to bring up their unsettled arrangement, which you appreciated. 

Apparently, so did Din, as he called out to her after a handful of footsteps.

“I will sponsor your program.” Her steps stopped short. Another scrape as she turned around. “If…” Din continued, and you heard her step closer. “You implement the outer rim education and water efforts.”

“Yes,” Trin agreed immediately. “Yes of course.” 

“And your son has absolutely zero involvement,” he added firmly. 

She paused at this, though something told you it was more out of guilt than genuine hesitation. “Of course,” she said quietly. 

Din said nothing else, and you imagined if you bothered to look out the window instead of staring dead ahead, you’d find them shaking hands, or perhaps he simply gave her that finalizing nod he was so fond of. Moments later he was at your side in the driver seat. 

“Are you ok sweetheart?” He asked warmly. A balm, soothing and cool on your wound. 

“Yeah,” you answered weakly. 

Din’s hand rose hesitantly, reaching toward you. Then he seemed to change his mind, placing it on the steer instead. You leaned your head against the window, watching the neon multi colors below shift into nothingness as Din sped you away from the penthouse.

It was quiet for a long time. Necessary but unspoken words lingered in the air between you, neither of you eager to voice them. His comm periodically buzzed, and he would answer it, visor flitting from the screen to the road. It made you nervous and you would have said something if you had the energy for even an ounce of more confrontation. 

Eventually though, the tears were too heavy and the words on your heart too persistent. You didn’t entirely feel it as you whispered, “I’m sorry…”

Din’s helmet immediately whipped around and stared at you. “ _What?_ What for?”

You shrugged helplessly. Your tears were silent and defeated as they rolled down your cheeks. “I don’t know, I just...that was awful. My first outing with you went absolutely awful and I just…” You weren’t even sure what you were trying to say. You didn’t exactly blame yourself, yet you felt...bad. “I’m just sorry.”

Din shook his head. “Sweetheart, listen to me.” His hand briefly reached over and touched your exposed knee. It was brief, no sooner had his glove made contact then he was retreating again. There was something palatably different about the gesture between the two of you alone, rather than as a pointed display. “None of that was your fault,” he insisted. 

You didn’t answer him. Din leaned forward, trying to catch your eye. 

“Hey. Look at me.”

You did.

“ _None_ of that was your fault, do you understand?” 

You nodded in acceptance. It was close enough. You knew you weren’t personally responsible for the night’s events, it just felt like something needed said. Apologies rolled easy off your tongue. Din continued to glance at you even as his comm demanded attention for the umpteinth time. He darted from it, to you, to the road. 

“Are you gonna be alright?” He asked, one thumb tapping the comm as his other hand held the steer. 

“Yeah,” you said, trying to sound even a fraction more upbeat. You did feel better, his words accomplished that much. But you knew it would take nothing but time to get over your disastrous, slightly traumatizing first evening with him. 

Your stomach chose that moment to gurgle, loudly, reminding you it had received inedible horderves in place of an actual dinner. You smiled hesitantly, looking at Din. “Do you think...maybe...we could get something to eat before you take me home?” 

You hoped the proposal would make up for your earlier refusal of his same suggestion. Maybe smooth some of the tension, and your own nerves. But Din seemed to hesitate, visor snapping to his comm before he looked back at you. “I...uh…”

“If you don’t have time that’s totally fine,” you backtracked, immediately crushed but effectively hiding it. “I have food at home. No problem.”

Din looked once more to his comm, gave it a few more taps, and promptly put it away. “Of course I have time,” he said decidedly. “Where would you like to go?” 

Every heavy ounce of anxiety that lingered in your heart drained, completely and at once. With a grin, you leaned forward to peer out the windshield, the only view not blurred by the vehicle's speed, and tried to see if you could spot a restaurant among the deep stacks of the city. 

The stress of the past few hours, the sickening feeling of Will’s presence, the questions on your checklist, all faded into the edges of your mind, tucked snugly beneath the warmth and comfort of Din’s company. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> peep this series masterlist on my tumblr for some frikkin stellar art people have made
> 
> https://dincrypt.tumblr.com/


End file.
